Part 21 (1/2)

”Down with men! Uffts forever!”they yapped at the men on their unicorns. So far as combat was concerned, however, the charge on the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p was anticlimactic. The uffts outside either fled with whatever they'd picked up in their teeth, or scattered to abuse the men from lurking-places among the boulders all round about. But there were very many more inside the s.h.i.+p. They came streaming out in a struggling, squabbling flood. The riders did not try to stop them. They seemed satisfied and even pleased with themselves over the panicky flight of the uffts. They cl.u.s.tered about the exit port, but they allowed the uffts through as they fled.

”What'll we do now?” asked Harl.

”See if Thistlethwaite's inside,” said Link curtly.

He got the stun gun ready. There'd been no effort by any of the riders to use their spears on the uffts.

Link could understand it. Uffts talked. And a man can kill a dangerous animal, or even a merely annoying one, but it would seem like murder to use a deadly weapon on a creature which was apparently incapable of anything more dangerous than nipping at a unicorn's foot or tearing the clothes of a man buried under a squealing heap of them. A man simply wouldn't think of killing a talking animal which couldn't harm him save by abuse.

Harl swung from his saddle and strode inside the s.h.i.+p. Link heard him climb the metal stairs inside. There was a wild squealing sound, and something came falling down the steps with a clatter as of tinware. An ufft rolled out of the door and streaked for the horizon, squealing.

There were more yellings.

”Down with murderers of interstellar travelers!”squeaked an invisible ufft somewhere nearby.”Men have hands!

”Shame! Shame! Shame!”yapped another. Then a chorus set up,”Men go home! Men go home! Men go home!”

The men on the unicorns seemed to grow uneasy. They were bunched around the exit port of the s.h.i.+p.

There were very many uffts concealed nearby. They made a racket of abuse. Sometimes they shouted whatever of competing outcries caught their fancy, as in the rhythmic, ”Men go home!” effort. Then there was merely a wild clamor until some especially strident voice began a more attractive phrase of insulting content.

There were thumpings inside the s.h.i.+p. Harl bellowed somewhere. More thumpings. The yellings of abuse grew louder and louder. Apparently the burdenless uffts had ceased to flee when they found themselves not pursued. The torrent of insult became deafening. At the very farthest limit of the light from the port, round bodies could be seen, running among the boulders as they yelled epithets.

The riders stirred apprehensively. The military tactics of the uffts, it could be said, consisted of derogatory outcries for moral effect and the biting of unicorns' feet as direct attack. Agitated running in circles had prefaced the attack on three unicorns, most tender parts in the village street. The riders in the starlight, here, were held immobile because Harl was inside the s.h.i.+p. But they showed disturbance at the prospect of another such attack on their mounts. More, there came encouraging, bloodthirsty cries from across the hilltop as if a war party from the ufft city were on the way to reinforce the uffts making a tumult about the s.h.i.+p.

Footsteps. Two pairs of them. Harl came out the exit port, very angry, with a woebegone retainer following him.

”This fella,” said Harl, fuming, ”is the one I left to watch the s.h.i.+p for you, Link. The whiskery fella came here with a crowd of uffts. He hadn't any clothes on and he told this fella he'd got in trouble and needed to get his clothes. The fella thought it was only mannerly to let a man have his own clothes, so he let him in. An' then the whiskery fella hit him from behind with somethin', an' locked him in a cabin an' let the uffts in.”

Link said curtly, ”Too bad, but-”

”We'd better get movin',” said Harl angrily. ”We missed him. He musta got away before we found it out.

He opened up a door somewheres, this fella says, and he heard him cussin' the uffts like they were just takin' anything they could close their teeth on. Then he heard some noise.”

An ufft leaped a boulder and darted at the uneasily stamping unicorns. He hadn't quite the nerve to make it all the way. He swerved back. But other uffts made similar short rushes. Presently there'd be one underfoot, nipping at the animals' feet, and they'd stampede.

”We'd better get movin',” said Harl. ”They're gettin' nervy.”

”No,” said Link, grimly. ”Wait a minute!”

He swung the stun gun around. He opened the cone-of-fire aperture. He adjusted the intensity-of-shock stud. He raised it. The yells were truly deafening. ”Scoundrels! Villains!” yapped the racing, jumping small creatures.

Link pulled the trigger. The stun gun made a burping noise. Electric charges sped out of it, scattering.

The gun would carry nearly a hundred yards at widest dispersion of its fire. Within the cone-shaped s.p.a.ce it affected, any flesh uns.h.i.+elded by metal would receive a sharp and painful but totally uninjurious electric shock. To men who knew nothing of electricity it would have been startling. To uffts it would be unparalleled and utterly horrifying. They squealed.

Link fired it again, at another area in the darkness. Shrieks of ufftian terror rose to the stars.

”Murderers!” cried ufft voices. ”Murderers! You're killing us!”

Link aimed at the voices and fired again. Twice.

The uffts around the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p went away from there, making an hysterical outcry in which complaints that the complainer had been killed were only drowned out by louder squealings to the effect that the squealers were dead.

”Sput!” said Harl, astounded. ”What're you doin', Link? You ain't killin' 'em, are you? I need 'em to bring in greenstuff!”

”They'll live,” said Link. ”Wait here. I want to see what Thistlethwaite did. Anyhow, he didn't try to lift the s.h.i.+p off to Old Man Addison's Household!”

He went in. He climbed the stairway. He saw a cargo compartment door. It had been sealed. It was now welded shut. Thistlethwaite had used an oxygen torch on it. A second cargo door. Welded shut.

The third door was open. It was apparently the compartment from which the loot of the uffts had come.

It appeared to be empty. The engine room door was welded shut, and the s.p.a.ceboat blister. The control room was sealed off from any entry by anybody without at least a cold chisel, but preferably a torch.

And the oxygen torch was gone.

Link went down the stairs again, muttering. Thistlethwaite had made theGlamorga.n.u.seless to anybody possessing neither a cold chisel nor an oxygen torch. Harl couldn't seize the materials Thistlethwaite planned to trade for dupliers. Old Man Addison might- In the one gutted cargo s.p.a.ce-he looked into it again with no hope at all-he found a plastic can of beans, toppled on the floor. He picked it up. It was too large for the jaws of uffts to grasp.

He went down to the exit port again, piously turning out the electric lights that Thistlethwaite had left burning. He was deeply and savagely disappointed. He was almost at the exit port when an idea came to him. He climbed back up and touched the bottommost weld. It scorched his fingers.

Thistlethwaite hadn't done it long ago. He couldn't be far off.

Link turned on the lights again and searched. The only loose object left anywhere was an open can of seal-off compound, for stopping air leaks such as theGlamorganhad a habit of developing. It was black and tarry and even an ufft would not want it. Link did.

He reached the open air again. He said briefly, ”Hold this, Harl.”

He handed over the container of beans and worked on the landing fin in which the exit port existed. He had only the narrow bristle brush used to apply the seal-off compound, and only the compound to apply.

The light was starlight alone. But when he'd finished he read the straggling letters of the message with some satisfaction. The message read:

THISTLETHWAITE,.

HOUSEHOLDERS DELIGHTED WITH TEST OF WEAPONS TO MAKE UFFTS WORK.

WITHOUT PAY. LEAD YOUR GANG INTO AMBUSH AS PLANNED FOR LARGE SCALE.

USE OF WEAPON. WATCH OUT FOR LINK. HE IS PRO-UFFT AND SECRETLY AN UFFT.

SYMPATHIZER.

”What'd you do, Link?” demanded Harl. ”The uffts've all run away, squealing. What'd you do? And what's that writing for?”

”That writing,” said Link, ”is to end the Thistlethwaite problem on Sord Three. You may not realize that there is such a problem, Harl, but that's to take care of it. And what I did was use a stun gun at maximum dispersion and minimum power. And I'm going to ask you, Harl, to go back to the Household straight through the ufft city. If they try to object I'll give them more of what they've had. I think the psychological effect will be salutary.”