He took a last look round the clearing, feeling a lingering regret that he had not found time to go after the scythe-cat. “No sense hanging about here. Let’s get moving.”
“The way I see it,” Ruiger said as they flew over the tawny-coloured continent, “creatures with such a knowledge of surgery can’t be all that bad. They can mend the sick and injured—that’s not something I find incomprehensible. Maybe the government’s too quick to write the no-go sign.”
Brand didn’t answer. Soon the Chid camp came in sight. It was on the edge of a level plain, perched near a two-hundred foot cliff that fell away to sharp rocks and a boiling sea. It had only three features: a pentagonal hut that seemed to be roofed with local ferns, the Chid ship, which resembled nothing so much as an Earth street tram, and a small, dark wood which occupied an oval-shaped depression in the ground. Ruiger did not think the wood was indigenous. Probably, he thought, the Chid had set it up as a garden or a park, using plants and trees from their own world.
They set down on what could roughly be interpreted as the perimeter of the camp. For some time they sat together in the control cabin, saying nothing, watching the site through the view-screens. At first there was no sign of life. After about half an hour, two tall Chid emerged from the hut and strolled to the wood, with not a single glance at the Earth ship nearby.
Anxiously Ruiger and Brand watched. At length the Chid reappeared, brushing aside foliage and coming into the light of day from the dank depths of the wood. Unconcernedly they ambled back to the fern-covered hut.
“It seems they spend their time in the hut, not in the ship,” Brand observed.
“Unless there are more of them in the ship.”
“It’s not very big. It couldn’t carry many.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Ruiger gnawed his knuckles. “They’re ignoring us.”
“Wise of them. We’d do the same if they landed near us. We might even move away. They haven’t done that.”
“Well, the first move’s up to us.” Ruiger rose, and looked at Brand. Both men felt nervousness make a sick ache in their stomachs. “Let’s go out there and see what they’ll do for us.”
They holstered their side-arms inside their shirts so that to outward appearances they were unarmed. Wessel’s jellified body still lay on the sled. They eased it out of the port, and set off across the short stretch of savannah-like grass to the Chid hut.
From outside the hut looked primitive and could as well have been erected by savages. They stopped a few feet from the door, which like the walls was made of a frame of branches from a local tree interwoven with ferns.
He decided it was probably an advantage that they would have to converse by means of gestures. When only the simplest and most obvious wants could be made known there was less room for misunderstanding.
He hooked his thumbs in his belt and called out. “Hello! Hello!”
Again: “Hello! We are Earthmen!”
The door opened, swinging inwards. The interior was dim. Ruiger hesitated. Then, his throat dry, he stepped inside, followed by Brand who guided the sled before him. “We are Earthmen,” he repeated, feeling slightly ridiculous. “We have trouble. We need your help.”
Anything else he might have said was cut off as he absorbed the scene within. The two Chid he had seen earlier swivelled their eyes to look at him. One lolled on a couch, but in such a manner as to seem like a corpse that had been carelessly thrown there, limbs flung apart in disarray, head hanging down and almost touching the beaten earth floor. The other was leaning forward half upright, dangling limply from a double sling into which his arms were thrust, and which was suspended from the roof rafters. His head lolled forward, his legs trailed behind.
Both postures looked bizarrely uncomfortable. Ruiger supposed, however, that the Chid were simply relaxing.
Somewhat larger of frame than a human, they had a lank, loose appearance about them. Their skin was grey, with undertones of green and buff orange. For clothing they wore a simple garment consisting of short trousers combined with a bib held in place by straps going over the shoulders. As with many androform species, their nonhuman faces were apt to seem caricatures of a particular human expression—in the Chid instance, an idiotic, chuckling gormlessness. It was important, Ruiger knew, not to be influenced by this doubtlessly totally wrong impression.
Unrecognisable utensils lay scattered and jumbled about the floor, and Ruiger’s gaze went to the rest of the hut. He shuddered. The walls resembled the racks of some prehistoric butcher’s shop, hung with pieces of raw flesh—limbs, entrails, various internal organs, and other organic components and substances he could not identify, from a variety of creatures unknown to him. The Chid clearly had botanic interests, too. Items of vegetable origin accompanied the purely animal ones, plants, tree branches, cuttings, fruit, strips of fibre and so forth. A moist, slightly rotten smell hung on the air, though whether from the grisly array or from the Chid themselves he could not say.
Unable to find a clear space on the floor, Brand left the sled floating. Ruiger pointed to the body. He hoped the purpose of their visit was self-evident.
“This is our comrade. He has been badly injured. We came to ask if you can heal him.”
The Chid in the sling swayed slightly from side to side. “Werry-werry-werry-werry…” he said, or that was what it sounded like to Ruiger. But then he broke off, and to the Earthmen’s great surprise spoke in almost perfect English.
“Visitors come to us from off the vast plain! You are here to sport with us, perhaps?”
“We came to ask for your help,” Ruiger replied. Again he pointed to the sled. “Our friend was attacked by a scythe-cat—a dangerous animal that’s found on this continent.”
“For the time being I’ve suspended his organic processes with a gelid solution,” Brand interrupted. “But when it wears off he’ll be dead, unless the damage can be made good first.”
“Chids are famed for their surgical skill,” Ruiger added.
The Chid withdrew his arms from the sling and approached the sled with an ambling gait, kicking aside metal artifacts that lay on the floor. Automatically Ruiger drew back. The strangeness of the scene made him fearful. It was hard to believe that these people were as advanced as they were supposed to be.
Bending over the sled, the Chid prodded Wessel’s inert form with a long finger. He chortled: a brassy sound like the braying of a cornet.
“Can you help him?” Ruiger enquired.
“Oh yes. Quite easy. Simple slicing. Nerves, muscles, blood vessels, lymph channels, skin—you won’t even know where the joins are.”
A feeling of relief flooded through the two men. “Then you’ll operate?” Ruiger pressed.
Straightening, the Chid stared directly at him. His eyes, now that Ruiger saw them close up, were horrible, like boiled eggs. “I have heard it said that Earthmen can leave their bodies and move about without them. Is it true?”
“No,” said Ruiger. It took him a moment to realise what the Chid was talking about. “You mean their souls can leave their bodies. It’s not true, though. It’s only religious belief. You know what religion is? Just a story.”
“How wonderful, to be able to leave one’s body and move about without it!” The Chid seemed to reflect. “Are you here for sport?” he asked suddenly. “Do you like races?”
“We are only interested in helping our friend get better.”
“Oh, but you should game with us.”
“After our friend is better,” Ruiger said slowly, “we’ll do anything you like.”
“Excellent, excellent!” The Chid chortled again, much louder than before, a shrill, unnerving sound.