The Great Hydration

“Bury?” This time Hrityu was puzzled. “A Gaminte patrol will collect all the bodies eventually. Their sniffer animals can smell corpses from fifty langs.”

Of course, Northrop thought. Corpses were valuable biological material. They might even contain traces of water.

It was hot standing under Tenacity’s small bright sun. Northrop invited the dehydrates into his tent. They were reluctant to enter, associating such structures with the pavilions of the Tlixix, but at length, staring about them in wonderment at the furnishings and communicator equipment, they sat with him and talked.

Once within the tent, the first thing Northrop noticed about his guests was the absence of any smell. Alien creatures usually gave off an odour of some kind. The dryness of the atmosphere, and their peculiar physiology, was responsible, he decided.

They were guarded when he asked them why they were being hunted. He, of course, did not know that the black Gamintes were a police force acting for the Tlixix, the masters of the planet.

“Why did you help us?” Hrityu responded, repeating his earlier question. “Do you not fear the retribution of the Tlixix?”

“The Tlixix?” Northrop laughed at the mention of the lobsters, though he did not know how the translator would render a laughing noise. “No, I don’t fear them. They don’t rule my kind.”

Hrityu and Karvass looked at one another in astonishment. Hrityu’s bewilderment increased. He recalled again the strange scene in the Pavilion of Audience.

Could it be that these green men with moss for head crests were also in revolt against the Tlixix? Or—extraordinary thought!—could they hail from the ancient time of the Tlixix themselves, in view of their tolerance of water?

He didn’t know what the truth was, but the stranger’s words brought out anew the indignation he felt. “The green enemies you saw belong to the tribe of the Crome,” he said in a rush, “and they have announced a war of extermination against my tribe, the Analane, a war to which the Tlixix have given consent! It is on a mission to save our tribe that I and my dear friend Kurwer were travelling, in company with Karvass of the Artaxa, who has promised us help.”

The list of names and tribes came at Northrop in a barely intelligible babble. Such a patchwork of wars and quarrels was to be expected he supposed.

“If the Tlixix are against you, your position is dire,” he commented.

Karvass’s membranes were dilating in alarm as Hrityu appeared to be exposing the secret of the gathering alliance, but the Analane would not be stopped. “Not any more! The tyranny of the Tlixix will come to an end! We shall survive!”

Not knowing anything of local politics, Northrop received this announcement without surprise. A feeling of pity for the dehydrates assailed him, mingled with an undercurrent of guilt. The struggles of the desert tribes did not matter. The dehydrates would probably all perish when water came back to Tenacity.

He felt almost tempted to reveal what was going to happen, and maybe provoke the dehydrates into a general revolt in an attempt to prevent it. But he did not dare to do that. Krabbe and Bouche would have the legal right to kill him.

Suddenly Hrityu and Karvass became fidgety and uncomfortable. Northrop could guess why. The water vapour given off by his body was affecting them.

He rose, opened the flap of the tent, and gestured to the outside. Thankfully the dehydrates followed his suggestion, though they had no real idea what was causing them discomfort.

Northrop hesitated. He glanced over to the men at the drilling rig. They were not looking his way. He retreated to the other side of the tent so that they could not see him.

“I hope you manage the rest of your journey without being attacked again,” he said. “If not—perhaps this will help.”

He knew he was being far too impulsive, but he took out the DE beamer and showed it to Hrityu. “This is the weapon I used on your enemies. All you do is aim this square part here, and press this stud.” He demonstrated, flexing his finger without taking it past the safety guard. “This ring here widens the angle so you can take out more warriors, but it’s weaker then and doesn’t always kill.”

He pressed the gun into the astonished Analane’s hands. “Hide it somewhere so my friends don’t see I’ve given it to you. Good luck. Maybe it will help defend your tribe, too. There are just under two hundred shots left in it.”

He didn’t know whether the translator was conveying everything he was saying, but he waved the dehydrates away, anxious not to get himself in trouble. Slowly they walked to their vehicles and boarded them. Inner wheels began to revolve. The prow of the desert boat began to glide through the sand.

Without looking back, Hrityu and Karvass departed.