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Kurwer shook his head. “How could such a huge tribe stay hidden from the Tlixix? They know everything.”

“We have had the help of the Sawune, the lizard race who live underground. They led us to vast underground caverns which we have made our home, and there we have worked and planned. Our hope is to come out into the sun and there build giant camps where we may live. Before the world changed the Tlixix built such great camps. All are buried by sand now.”

The Analane had heard tales of the stupendous habitations of the Tlixix in olden days.

Karvass went on: “The Tlixix, naturally, would never allow this. If they even learned of our great numbers they would promote wars of extermination against us, for they maintain their power by keeping tribes small and in constant warfare with one another. Yet why should the Tlixix dominate the world? They belong to the far past, before the great change. They must huddle in their hydroriums, and scheme to keep us pitted against one another. Yet rightly, the world belongs to us. Do you understand me, Analane?”

“But how can you think to challenge the Tlixix?” Kurwer asked in a hushed tone.

“We shall challenge them. We shall challenge them by making war on them. The Artaxa, the Sawune and such tribes as will join forces with us will fight whoever chooses to defend them. The Tlixix will be swept away.”

“What will become of them?” Hrityu said in awe.

“No doubt they will all perish. Life is virtually impossible for them unless they make use of creatures like ourselves. They are not made for this world.”

In stony silence the Analane sat contemplating the almost unbelievable thoughts that had just been put to them. A world without the Market Masters was hard to envisage.

“Then this is the alliance you offer,” Hrityu said.

“Yes. I stole your radiator to put it into our hands rather than in the pincers of the Tlixix. Think what it will mean if tribe can speak to tribe, camp to camp, across the world! We shall be able to outflank our enemies and stall their every move. And now there is every reason for the whole tribe of the Analane to join us. The Tlixix are not your friends. This is the best way you can save yourselves.”

“Is it?” Hrityu questioned stiffly. “We could, if we wished, go to the Tlixix and inform them of your plans. If we recover the radiator then…”

The Artaxa chuckled. “You could kill me here and now if you chose. I told you I was putting my trust in you. In neither case, however, would you be likely to regain the radiator, and so would not be able to obtain the eruptionite with which you thought to defend your tribe.”

The Analane started at the mention of the secret weapon. Karvass chuckled again. “You would not obtain the eruptionite in any case. I have talked with Nussmussa of the Toureen. He has gone to consult the elders of his tribe, and it is close to certain that they will opt to join the alliance. I am confident that you will do the same. We shall have eruptionite! We shall have radiators! We shall be invincible!”

“But when is this uprising to take place?” Kurwer wanted to know. “What if the Crome attack first?”

“If you ally yourselves with our cause, we shall help you. Artaxa will fight alongside Analane, and our numbers alone ensure that you cannot be defeated by the Crome.”

Hrityu pondered. “Only the elders of the Analane can make this decision.”

“They will be guided by your advice.”

“And yet respect for the Tlixix is a tradition hard to break.”

“Even when one’s tribe faces extinction? I think not. And when they realize that without the Tlixix an age of progress dawns upon the world…”

“He is right!” Kurwer exclaimed suddenly. “This is the only real option open to us, Hrityu! We owe the Tlixix nothing!”

“I agree,” Hrityu said slowly. “We owe them nothing.” He turned to Karvass. “I suggest you now lead us to where you have hidden our radiator.”

“It is already within your view. Drive to that rock over there.”

Karvass pointed to an outcrop midway to the horizon. Hrityu obeyed him, but it was not until he had halted the vehicle that he saw that the rock was not a rock at all but a sheet of grey, fibrous cloth stretched over something bulky, its edges weighed down with sand. It was a cunning disguise. Karvass jumped to the ground and cumbersomely removed the cloth. Revealed was a narrow, smooth vehicle with a bow-like prow and a passenger compartment protected by a raked glass windscreen.

The two Analane followed him and saw, nestling side by side under the windscreen, their radiator and receiver. Their facial membranes quivered.

“This is my plan,” Karvass said briskly. “Firstly, I will take you to our secret camp. There a force will be assembled to aid in your fight against the Crome, and one of you can return home with it. The other will remain to teach us the secrets of your device.”

The Artaxa’s bright silver eyes stared at them. “What is your answer? I have thrown myself on your mercy. You are two against one. There is nothing to prevent you from killing me here and now and taking back your property. But I do not believe you will be so foolish. Instead, let us be comrades-in-arms!”

Karvass stepped forward, metal accoutrements clinking. He clasped Hrityu by the wrist in the worldwide gesture of trust and agreement.

And Hrityu clasped the green-skinned humanoid by his other wrist, completing the sign.

“Very well, then! Full speed to the camp of the Artaxa!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The hydrorium towards which the desert caravan hummed was, according to the Gaminte guards, the largest on the planet. It hove into view like a dome-shaped mountain, the metal exterior scored to dullness by centuries of wind-blown sand.

Boris Bouche judged the curve of the dome to be a cycloid, a shape much used by human engineers. It impressed him that the Tlixix could construct a cycloid on this scale. He scanned the terrain where the dome stood. It had been built on the edge of an escarpment, beneath which a level plain stretched to the horizon. Clearly this had been a shoreline, in the days before all ocean water disappeared into Tenacity’s interior.

They were in the foremost of four large desert drays. The journey from the World Market had taken a tiresome two Earth days. A suggestion that transport be left to one of the Enterprise’s lighters had met with a curt refusal on the part of the Tlixix, who continued to treat the Earthmen as prisoners, albeit honoured ones. They still retained all of Krabbe and Bouche’s equipment, except for the translator sets.

They didn’t know, of course, that the Enterprise was watching the progress of the caravan through the interferometric telescope.

The partners lounged on the foredeck, protected by a glass canopy, in company with three Gamintes. Market Master Rherrsherrsh was semi-submerged in a spray-bath in the rear, separated from them by a partition. His colleague at the World Market had gone ahead in a fast vehicle to brief the Tlixix ruling council. Behind them, in the second dray, was Krabbe and Bouche’s supply of food and water.

The powerful radium motor hummed as the Gaminte driver headed the dray towards the dome’s tunnel entrance. Bouche scowled, rubbing his jaw. Krabbe, by contrast, smiled happily. He had noticed how his partner got tense at these moments. He, however, was convinced that everything was going well. Sure, the lobsters were going to have an incredulity problem. The tale they were being told was scarcely believable, from their point of view.

But Krabbe had dealt with a range of alien races, and he had come up with a common denominator. It didn’t matter what an intelligent species looked like, or what strange habits and outlooks it had. There was a common touchstone for the whole galaxy, probably for the whole universe, which made it possible to do business.