“I thought we were almost gone.”
“No, rat brain. There are some groups in various inaccessible places on the planet.”
“And,” said Jonnie, “having gotten them, we are going to take them back to the 'defense base.' "
Terl looked at him and nodded. “And you're going to help.”
"If I’m going to help, maybe we better talk over how we are going to do this.”
Terl shrugged. “Simple. There's a village up in the mountains where you see that red circle. This is a battle plane. We just dive in with stun blasts and then walk around and load the ones we want aboard.”
Jonnie looked at him. No.
Hostile, Terl said, “You promised-”
“I know what I promised. I’m saying 'no' because your plan won't work.”
“These guns can be set to 'stun.' They don't have to be put on a 'kill' setting.”
“Maybe you better tell me what these men are going to do,” said Jonnie.
“Why, you're going to train them on machines. I thought you could figure that out yourself, rat brain. You've been ferrying the machines. So what's wrong with this plan?”
“They won't cooperate,” said Jonnie.
With a frown, Terl studied that. Leverage, leverage. It was true that he wouldn't have leverage. “We'll tell them that if they don't cooperate we'll shoot up their village for keeps.”
“Probably,” said Jonnie. He looked at Terl with disgust and laughed.
It stung Terl. Jonnie was sitting back now, looking at the map. Jonnie saw that they were avoiding a minesite located in the southwest of England. He wagered with himself that Terl would come down to wave top in the last run into Scotland.
“Why won't it work?” demanded Terl.
"If I’ve got to train them, you better let me walk in and get them.”
Terl barked a laugh. “Animal, if you walked into that village they would drill you like a sieve. Suicide! What a rat brain!”
"If you want any help from me,” said Jonnie, offering the map, “you'll land up here on this mountain and let me walk in the last five miles.”
“And then what will you do?”
Jonnie did not want to tell him. "I’ll get you fifty men.”
With a shake of his head, Terl said, “Too risky. I didn't spend over a year training you just to have to start all over!” Then he realized he might have said too much. He looked suspiciously at Jonnie, thinking: the animal must not consider itself valuable.
“Crap!” said Terl. “All right, animal. You can go ahead and get yourself killed. What's one animal more or less? Where's the mountain?”
Well short of northern Scotland, Terl brought the personnel freighter down to wave top. They skimmed the gray-green water, eventually roared up the side of a cliff, shot inland battering the scrub and trees, and came to a halt under the shoulder of a mountain.
Jonnie won his own bet. Terl had avoided the minesite in the south.
Chapter 8
Jonnie stepped down into a different land.
The barren mountain and its scrub seemed to swim in a soft mist; everything was hazed and faintly blue. It seemed a very beautiful place, but it had dark gorges and inaccessible summits, and there was a secretness about it as though its softness concealed a harsh threat. He had not realized a land could be so different from the bold mountains of his home.
He had changed to buckskin. He hung a kill-club on his belt.
“It’s over there about five miles,” said Terl, pointing south. “Very rough terrain. Don't get any ideas about vanishing. There's a whole ocean and continent between you and your country. You'd never make it back.” He took out the control box and laid it on the seat behind him. He pointed at it.
“Could be,” said Jonnie, “that by tomorrow morning I’ll come back and get you to move into the village. So don't move off.”
“Tomorrow noon,” said Terl, “I’ll come down and collect fifty men, my way. If you're still alive, duck under something to avoid the stun guns. Damned fool.”
“See you tomorrow morning,” said Jonnie, moving off.
“Goodbye, rat brain,” said Terl.
Jonnie found a faint trail that went south and, alternately running and walking, wove his way through the gullies and brush and barren fields.
It was not a very promising land for food. He did not start any deer but he saw an old trace of one. There was not much grazing to be had. Far off on another mountain he thought he saw some sheep, just a few of them, more like a small cloud than animals.
He caught a glimpse of water through the scrub ahead and went up a gully, intending to get a better look. Yes, there was an inland body of water ahead. He trotted back to the trail.
Abruptly, three pointed stakes jabbed out of cover. He stopped. Very, very slowly he put up his hands, palms out to show they were empty of weapons.
A guttural, wheezing voice said, “Take his club. Be swift noo."
One spear lowered, and a heavyset youth with a black beard stepped forward and a bit fearfully yanked the club from Jonnie's belt. The youth retreated around behind him and pushed him. The other spears made way.
“Look saucy noo," the wheezing voice said, "dinna let him run away.”
They came to a small clearing and Jonnie looked at them. There were four: two with black hair and dark eyes, a third with blond hair and blue eyes and taller than the rest, plus an old man who seemed to be in charge.
Their dress was partly woven cloth and partly hides. They wore patterned skirts of some rough fabric that fell to their knees. On their heads they had bonnets.
“It’s a thief from the Orkneys,” said one.
"Na, I ken Orkneymen," said another.
“Could be he's a Swede,” said the blonde one. “But no, no Swede dresses so.”
“Hush yer prattle,” said the old one.
“Look in his pouch an' mayhap ye'll find the answer.”
Jonnie laughed. “I can give you the answer,” he said.
They recoiled on the defensive.
Then a black-haired one crept forward and looked closely into his face. “He's a Sassenach! Hear the accent!”
The old man brushed the speaker aside with impatience. "Na, the Sassenachs be dead these mony centuries. Except for those already here.”
“Let's go down to the village,” said Jonnie. "I’m a messenger.”
“Ah,” said a black-bearded one. "Clanargyll! They want to talk of peace.”
"Noo, noo, noo," said the old man. “He wears no such plaid.” He squared himself off in front of Jonnie. “Messenger you be from whom?”
“You'll fall over on your backside,” laughed Jonnie, “when I tell you. So let's go down to the village. My message is for your parson or mayor.”
“Ah, it's a parson we have. But you'll be meaning Chief of the Clan, Fearghus! Git ahind him you boys and push him along.”
Chapter 9
The village sprawled on the shore of what they said was Loch Shin. It looked temporary, as though the inhabitants could easily pick up belongings and flee to a mountainside. A great many racks stood about with fish drying on them. A few children peeked, afraid, from behind fallen walls. No vast number of people came out to watch the group enter the village, but there was a feeling of eyes watching.
Here too the mist softened the land. The waters of the loch lay placid and extensive in the quiet day.
They put Jonnie in the front chamber of the only whole stone house apparent. It had an inner room, and the old man went in. There was considerable murmuring of voices from in there as Jonnie waited. A scrawny child peeked at him from behind a tattered cloth curtain, its blue eyes intense. He put out a hand toward it to beckon it closer, and it vanished in a flurry of curtain.