Belatedly, Terl remembered that these Brigantes were reputed cannibals, a fact that had lessened their trade with the minesite over the centuries. Sternly he said, “There can be no such clause!” His whole plan could be wrecked if they threw these creatures out. His studies, when he was doing the lode plan, had isolated some data in Chinko books indicating that these human animals curiously objected to cannibalism. He had at one time considered using the Brigantes for his gold plan but they had been far away, and also they might have run around yammering about no food due to the scarcity of humans in these parts.
“For the duration of this contract,” said Terl, “you will just have to put up with cattle as food.”
“It tastes funny,” said the Brigante chief. He was willing to concede the point. His brigade had had to eat an awful lot of water buffalo and monkey and elephant. But it wouldn't do to be too agreeable. Be a hard bargainer! “But all right, if the pay is good.”
Terl told him then that he himself intended to go back to Psychlo very soon and he would personally collect their back pay at the Galactic Bank and return it here. And that meanwhile they should hire on as the sentries and military force of this compound and the Council.
“You'll bring the back pay back?” said
Snith. “All half-million?"
“Yes, you have my word on it.”
The word of a Psychlo? Snith said, “I and six of my picked men will go with you to see that you do!”
Although Terl didn't know whether the imperial government would want to interrogate them– the imperial government would want a very important, knowledgeable man– he readily agreed. Who cared about what happened to Snith once Terl's plan was executed!
“Of course, and welcome,” smiled Terl. “Providing of course you help me all you can until we go. Anything else?”
Yes, there was. Snith fished out something and gingerly approached the cage. He laid it down between the temporarily de-electrified bars and withdrew as was proper.
Terl tugged his chain over and picked the item up.
“They want to pay us in that stuff,” said Snith. “It’s only printed on one side and I think it might be counterfeit!”
Terl took it closer to a cage light.
What was this thing? He couldn't read any of the characters on it. “I doubt you can even read this!” he challenged.
“Oh yes, I did,” said Snith. He couldn't read either, but somebody had read it to him. “It do say it is one credit and is legal for payment of all debts. And around the picture it says, 'Jonnie Goodboy Tyler, The Conqueror of the Psychlos.' " That was what disturbed him really, that the Psychlos were said to have been conquered.
Terl thought fast. "Indeed it is a counterfeit and a lie as well!”
“I thought so,” said Snith. They always tried to trick you. His ancestors had known that very firmly. Trick before you are tricked, they used to say about all dealings.
“But I’ll tell you what I will do,” said Terl into the mine radio. “Just so you know who you are really working for, you accept this and say nothing, and when we get to the Galactic Bank, I will redeem it in cold, hard cash!”
That was fair. Now he knew who he was really working for. Made a lot of sense, quite proper. Paid by one group but working for another. This Psychlo was straight after all.
“That's fine,” said Snith. “By the way, I know that man in the picture.”
Terl looked closer. The light had been bad. By crap, it look like his animal! He tried to remember whether he had ever heard its name. Yes, he dimly recalled the strange words. Yes, it was the damned animal!
“That bird just waltzed in and wiped out a whole commando of mine,” said Snith. “Not too long ago. Attacked them without even a salute, mowed them down. And then stole their bodies and a truckload of trade goods!”
“Where?”
"In the forest, where else?”
This was news! His intelligence said that this creature in the picture had been flying around visiting tribes! Or maybe this was how he visited tribes! That was probably it. Terl knew he himself would visit tribes that way. Ah, well, he knew Staffor would be very, very happy indeed to know that! The animal was not where he was thought to be and he was making war on peaceful tribes. Staffor was a very apt political pupil. Now he would make him a very apt military pupiclass="underline" in the dumb way that was the only one possible.
But to business. He put the bank note back on the ledge between the bars, withdrew, and Snith retrieved it.
“So we've settled the contract matter and you can negotiate it further,” said Terl. “Get settled in and in a very few weeks or even sooner you'll be doing your duty here. Right?”
"Indeed so,” said Snith.
“And as a bonus,” said Terl, "I’ll persuade certain parties to authorize you to kill the animal who wronged you on sight.”
That was very, very good. And Snith was driven back to the old city by a dutiful Lars, who endured the stink in the name of spreading the righteous creed of fascism and the great military leader, Hitler.
Chapter 9
The underground room at the Lake Victoria minesite was chilled. Angus had rigged heavy-duty motor cooling coils along the wall and the humidity in the air dripped from them and made dark pools along the floor.
The metal and mineral analysis machine hummed; its screen cast an eerie green light on everything around it. Five tense faces were
turned to that screen: Dr. MacKendrick's, Angus's, Sir Robert's, Dunneldeen's, and Jonnie's.
Massive, more than eighteen inches in diameter, the ugly head of the Psychlo corpse lay on the machine's plate. Such a head was mostly bone. It bore considerable resemblance to a human head and could be mistaken for one in bad light, but where a human had hair, eyebrows, fleshy lips, nose, and ears, the Psychlo had bone whose shape was more or less the same as the corresponding human features, and the distribution and spacing were similar; the result was a kind of caricature of a human head. Until you touched the features, they did not seem to be bone, but contact proved them hard and unyielding.
The analysis machine was not penetrating the head. Not only were the features bone but the whole top half of the skull was bone. As the parson in his earlier, inexpert autopsy had discovered, the brain was low down and to the back; he had discovered nothing in the brain because he had not opened the brain of the cadavers.
“Bone!” said Angus. “It’s almost as hard to penetrate as metal!”
Jonnie could attest to that from the negligible effects of his kill-club on Terl's skull back in the morgue.
Angus was resetting dials. The Psychlo letters were codings for various metals and ores. He swung the intensity dial up five clicks.
“Wait!” said MacKendrick. “Back it up one! I thought I saw something.”
Angus backed the intensity of penetration dial back one, then two. It was sitting on “Lime” now.
There was a hazy difference in density on the screen, one little spot. Angus adjusted the beam's “in depth” control, focusing it. The internal bones and fissures of the skull came clear on the screen. Five pairs of eyes watched intensely.
The Scot's fingers took another knob, one that swept a second beam to various positions in the subject.
“Wait,” said MacKendrick. “Move the beam back to about two inches behind the mouth cavity. There! Now focus it again.” Then, “That's it!”
There was something there, something hard and black on the screen that was not passing waves at this intensity. Angus touched the recorder of the machine and the whir-flap sound of registry of the images on the paper roll was loud.