guns in any other human hands. He’ll demonstrate their use to the Herd soldiers. But you know what lousy shots they’ll be,
with so little practice. Cortez had good modern weapons too, for his time, and men a lot better disciplined than the Aztecs;
but when they got riled enough, they threw him out of Mexico.” Thoughtfully: “He made a comeback later, with the whole Spanish
power behind him. We have to prevent that.”
“What do you propose to do?”
“Right now,” Valland said, “I’m still tryin’ to hammer into the local heads some notion of unified command and action under
doctrine. Fightin’ looks easy by comparison.”
“But—Hugh, listen, the Packs may outnumber the Herd detachment, but they’ll have to charge across open ground. I don’t care
how poorly laid an energy barrage is, they can’t survive. Not to mention arrows. Those Herd archers are good.”
“So who says we’ll charge?” Valland countered. “For our main operation, anyhow. I’ve got a plan. It should take the downdevils
by surprise. Everything you’ve told me fits in with what ya-Kela knows, and it all goes to show they can’t read minds. If
they could, they wouldn’t need to transmit words through those midget sensitives. The downdevils read Rorn’s emotional pattern,
all right, and shifted it for him. But that was done on a basic, almost glandular level. They couldn’t’ve known what he was
thinkin’, nor what we think.”
“Our men are hostages,” I reminded him. “Not to speak of our food tanks and the other equipment we need for survival.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” His tone was mild and implacable. “We’ll have to take chances, for the men as well as ourselves. Because
what have they really got to lose? If we get in fast—”
A shadow darkened the cave mouth. As he joined us, I recognized ya-Kela. He hailed me with the courtesy that most savages
throughout the universe seem to use, before he turned to Valland. I couldn’t follow his report, but he sounded worried.
Valland nodded. “’Scuse me,” he said. “Business.”
“What?” I asked.
“Oh, one of those silly things that’re always comin’ up. Some Pack chiefs decided they don’t like my ideas. If cut-and-run
guerrilla fightin’ by little independent gangs was good enough for granddaddy, it’s good enough for them, and to hell with
this foreign nonsense about unity and assigned missions. Ya-Kela can’t talk sense into them. I’ll have to. If we let anyone
go home, pretty soon everybody will.”
“Do you think you can stop them?” I fretted, for I knew something about pride and politics myself.
“I been doin’ it, since we started tins project. Now get some rest. You’ll need your strength soon.” Valland left with ya-Kela.
He had to stoop to get out.
I lay there, cursing my weakness that would not let me go too. Noises came to me, shouts, yelps, snarls. There was the sound
of a scuffle; Valland told me later that he had had to Underline a logical point with his fist. But presently I heard notes
like bugle and drum. I heard a human voice lifted in song, and I remembered some of those songs, ancient as they were,
Starbuck
and
La Marseillaise
and
The March of the Thousand
, forged by a race more warlike than any on this world; then he set his instrument to bagpipe skirls and the hair stood up
on my spine. The Packs howled. They didn’t comprehend the language, they hardly grasped the idea of an army, but they recognized
strong magic and they would follow as long as the magician lived.
XIII
W E CAME DOWN to the shore well south of our objective. By then time was short for Valland and me: little remained of our powdered food.
And what had gone on with our people these Earth-days of their captivity? Nevertheless we had to wait on the weather.
That didn’t take long, though, on this planet. Rain was succeeded by fog. The Packs divided themselves. A very small contingent
went with
with so little practice. Cortez had good modern weapons too, for his time, and men a lot better disciplined than the Aztecs;
but when they got riled enough, they threw him out of Mexico.” Thoughtfully: “He made a comeback later, with the whole Spanish
power behind him. We have to prevent that.”
“What do you propose to do?”
“Right now,” Valland said, “I’m still tryin’ to hammer into the local heads some notion of unified command and action under
doctrine. Fightin’ looks easy by comparison.”
“But—Hugh, listen, the Packs may outnumber the Herd detachment, but they’ll have to charge across open ground. I don’t care
how poorly laid an energy barrage is, they can’t survive. Not to mention arrows. Those Herd archers are good.”
“So who says we’ll charge?” Valland countered. “For our main operation, anyhow. I’ve got a plan. It should take the downdevils
by surprise. Everything you’ve told me fits in with what ya-Kela knows, and it all goes to show they can’t read minds. If
they could, they wouldn’t need to transmit words through those midget sensitives. The downdevils read Rorn’s emotional pattern,
all right, and shifted it for him. But that was done on a basic, almost glandular level. They couldn’t’ve known what he was
thinkin’, nor what we think.”
“Our men are hostages,” I reminded him. “Not to speak of our food tanks and the other equipment we need for survival.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” His tone was mild and implacable. “We’ll have to take chances, for the men as well as ourselves. Because
what have they really got to lose? If we get in fast—”
A shadow darkened the cave mouth. As he joined us, I recognized ya-Kela. He hailed me with the courtesy that most savages
throughout the universe seem to use, before he turned to Valland. I couldn’t follow his report, but he sounded worried.
Valland nodded. “’Scuse me,” he said. “Business.”
“What?” I asked.
“Oh, one of those silly things that’re always comin’ up. Some Pack chiefs decided they don’t like my ideas. If cut-and-run
guerrilla fightin’ by little independent gangs was good enough for granddaddy, it’s good enough for them, and to hell with
this foreign nonsense about unity and assigned missions. Ya-Kela can’t talk sense into them. I’ll have to. If we let anyone
go home, pretty soon everybody will.”
“Do you think you can stop them?” I fretted, for I knew something about pride and politics myself.
“I been doin’ it, since we started tins project. Now get some rest. You’ll need your strength soon.” Valland left with ya-Kela.
He had to stoop to get out.
I lay there, cursing my weakness that would not let me go too. Noises came to me, shouts, yelps, snarls. There was the sound
of a scuffle; Valland told me later that he had had to Underline a logical point with his fist. But presently I heard notes
like bugle and drum. I heard a human voice lifted in song, and I remembered some of those songs, ancient as they were,
Starbuck
and
La Marseillaise
and
The March of the Thousand
, forged by a race more warlike than any on this world; then he set his instrument to bagpipe skirls and the hair stood up
on my spine. The Packs howled. They didn’t comprehend the language, they hardly grasped the idea of an army, but they recognized
strong magic and they would follow as long as the magician lived.
XIII
W E CAME DOWN to the shore well south of our objective. By then time was short for Valland and me: little remained of our powdered food.
And what had gone on with our people these Earth-days of their captivity? Nevertheless we had to wait on the weather.
That didn’t take long, though, on this planet. Rain was succeeded by fog. The Packs divided themselves. A very small contingent
went with
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