Empire of Two Worlds

“All right,” I said with a shrug, “so what?”

“So if a thing will work in one place it will work in another. Take the lever: the principle of the lever is the same everywhere. You need a load, a fulcrum, and a force. You boys, yourself, Grale, Reeth and Hassmann, are my lever. I’m the force. Together we make up a machine, a lever that moved things for us back there in Klittmann. So why shouldn’t it move things for us in the same way here? It will, once we find the right angle. We need a load to move and the right fulcrum. Then we have power.”

I shook my head. “It’s a little too abstract for me.”

I decided to change the subject.

“You’re going to have trouble with Grale, Bec. He’s getting wild.”

Bec laughed shortly. “Grale’s a good man. He’s dependable. But for you, he’d be my second. That puzzles you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I admitted sourly.

He laughed again. “I grant you Reeth is smarter, but then he’s got that individualistic streak. He’s always liable to take off on his own. Grale is always shooting off his big mouth, but he sticks with it every time.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that we hate one another’s guts?”

“No, it doesn’t. It keeps you both on your toes.” My resentment seemed to amuse him. “You’ve still got a few things to learn about leadership, Klein.”

Maybe I had. There was still something left to learn about Becmath, too.

On the seventh day we found the village.

Six

Scents. That was the first thing I noticed as we poised on the breast of the hill overlooking the village. A mingle of scents drifting in through the sloop’s windows.

Killibol people have a dulled sense of smell (only much later did I learn what a sharp, musty odour Klittmann has) and mine was awakening gradually. I remember that instance above the village as a small moment of truth.

The hill descended in a series of terraces to a cluster of buildings with quaint curved roofs; they appeared to be arranged in streets. The scents were breezing up from slender trees and giant trumpet-shaped flowers that grew on the terraces and had the appearance of being cultivated.

There was music drifting up the hillside, too. It was cordial and relaxed and made you think of beautiful things — quite unlike the jerky, frenetic music of Klittmann.

Bec beckoned Harmen to sit with him. “What do you think?”

We peered at the figures that were moving about the village. “It looks peaceful,” the alk said. “Make friendly contact.”

Bec nodded and began to lower us carefully down the hillside. The buildings grew larger as the sloop groaned downwards terrace by terrace.

When we were about halfway something whanged in through the window and ricocheted about inside. I yelled an order: in no time at all the shutters were down, closed to slits. A shower of tiny missiles rained against the hull with spitting sounds.

Reeth was peering through a slit. “There’s a bunch of guys on the outskirts of the village shooting at us with guns of some kind.”

“O.K.,” Bec said instantly, “use one of the Hackers. Just a few shells.”

“Is that wise?” I asked. “We don’t know what these people have to back them up.”

“We’ve got to show them we can fight, too,” Bec said tightly. “The Hacker, Reeth.”

Reeth obliged. Hacker shells landed amongst the firing party and in a brief shower around the village. As the shells exploded buildings collapsed in clouds of dust and all the inhabitants in sight scattered and vanished.

Bec flung us down the hill with engines whining, through terraced gardens which our wheels ripped to shreds. At the base of the hill the sloop’s armoured prow smashed into the side of a house, bringing it crashing around us. Grumbling through the wreckage, the sloop pulled itself free and clambered over a further pile of rubble. Then we found ourselves in a wide street running the whole length of the village.

We slid slowly along it like a big black slug.

“What now?” I said. We all had triggers under our fingers but there was no one in sight.

“This time they can come to us,” Bec announced. “Fire the Jains into the air. That might give them the idea.”

Down here among the houses the noise of the Jains was deafening. After a short burst Bec ordered us to quit and we lay waiting in dead silence.

It took the villagers nearly an hour to make a move. Then, at the end of the street, two figures appeared and walked hesitantly towards us.

“This is where we find out who’s on top,” Bec mumbled. “Klein, come with me. The rest of you, keep us covered — and keep us covered good.”

We opened the door, looked around, climbed down and went to meet the villagers where they were standing out in front of the sloop. I kept my hand on my gun. People who shoot without asking questions always make me nervous.

The Earth people were human beings, but obviously a different type of human from what we were. They had green skin: a light, gentle, pleasant green. Their eyes were a glowing purple.