“The dragon screen was weak,” Tau answered. “But this is full strength.”
“They got in and let the dragons out—” Meshler seized upon the optimistic side. “You think he might be able to do that for us? Come on then—!”
He caught at Dane’s shoulder and gave him a push toward the force shield.
Dane spoke into the translator. “This thing, it is strong, but it is like that which was about the cage. Can you make a hole in it to let us through?”
The brach broke from Dane’s hold and went to the haze, walking hesitatingly, his nose up and outstretched, as if he meant to tear through with his horn. But he halted with a good space between that horn and the mist of the barrier. Then began a slow swing of his head back and forth. He might have been measuring off the space through which to cut a door. But, as he squatted down on his haunches, the verdict piped out of Dane’s mike.
“This is strong, very strong. Can maybe make small place for self—take much effort to do that. But you are too big, and cannot hold any space for long.”
Dane repeated that to the others.
“So,” Meshler said “it—he—can get out, but not us.”
“There is another way,” Dane suggested. “If he can get out, shut off the field broadcast—”
“A very long chance.” Meshler sounded as if he did not believe in the success of that.
“Not too—” Tau dropped to one knee, the faint radiance of the haze making of him a silhouette. “This is a general broadcast field. The energy may be stepped up, but it is not complicated. If the brach can get through—Dane”—he turned to the younger Terran—“is there any way to make him understand what to hunt for and what he must do if he finds it?”
“If I had a light, something to draw on—”
Tau looked to Meshler. “Anything in that bag of yours to help?”
“There’s a belt beamer. For the rest—” The ranger shook his head.
Dane knelt beside Tau, running his hands across the ground until one of his fingers stubbed painfully on a small stick. He pulled it out of the soil, and it came easily, so he was aware that the ground here was not iron-hard with frost.
“There is a thing”—he spoke now to the brach—“which can be done for us all.”
The alien swung around, crouching between Dane and Tau. Using his glove, Dane smoothed a bit of ground. Meshler had been rummaging in the pack. Now he produced a small belt beamer. Laying it by Dane’s hand, he unsealed and stripped off his outer tunic, holding this as a shield behind which they could use the light. Dane sat trying to remember force field controls. As Tau had pointed out, those were alike and the off and on switches relatively simple.
“Somewhere—not too far—” Dane began, speaking slowly and with all the distinctness he could muster, “there is a box. It will look thus.” With care he used the stick to outline a force field control. “On its top are three projections, so.” He added those to the sketch. “One will be turned up—thus—” He drew a short line from one dot. “The other two down, in this manner. The one that is up”—he paused to blot out the first lines and redraw them—“must be made to come down, the other two to go up. This will open the wall for us. I do not know where this box is. Perhaps you can find it, and it may be guarded by men. But it is our only hope of freedom. Do you understand?”
“Understand. But do you?” The brach’s meaning was obscure. Perhaps he guessed that, for now he continued with the same desire to impress as Dane had used.
“I do this—you free. What you do then for me—for mine?”
A bargain! Dane was startled. He had forgotten that the brachs were cargo, that they really had no reason to join the crew. Come to think of it, they had not even asked the brach if he wanted to help them. They had used his particular talents as they would those of an animal as he had once been considered.
Dane explained to Tau and Meshler. The medic spoke.
“But, of course. Why should we think he would automatically go on running into danger for us?”
“He freed us in that camp,” cut in Meshler. “If he didn’t want to help us, then why that?”
“We were something he needed.” Dane thought he had the answer. “He wanted our protection in the wilderness.”
“Then he’ll need it now.” Meshler seized upon that triumphantly. “We’re all in this together.”
“The conditions,” Tau pointed out, “are not quite the same. That was wilderness. There must be some kind of a camp or settlement near here. He doesn’t need us as much as we need him now.”
“What do you want?” Paying no attention to his companions, Dane came to the point with the brach.
“No cage—be free with own—” the alien replied promptly
The brachs were still cargo. Dane had no right to make such a decision. But neither were intelligent beings classed as cargo—they were passengers, whether the authorities agreed or not. And passengers, providing they had committed no crime on board the Queen, were free to go. Only he had no authority and could not make a bargain—nor give empty promises. There was expediency in trade to be sure, but there were limits past which one did not go, and the most fragile of these dealt with contacts with X-Tee races. He would stake his whole future career on any decision he made now. Perhaps Meshler did not realize that, but Dane thought Tau would when he passed along the brach’s request.
“If he’s intelligent,” Meshler snapped, “then he had no business in a cage. Tell him ‘yes’ and let him get us out of this cage!”
But was it that simple? Suppose Dane said “yes” and the legalities of trade later said “no”? The brachs were cargo, undischarged cargo. They had a consigner on Xecho, a consignee waiting at the port. And would those tamely accept such a bargain?
“What are you waiting for?” Meshler demanded even more sharply. “If this alien can find the controls and shut off the field, he’d better get at it. Do you realize what may be in here with us?”
But Dane was not going to be pushed into what might seem betrayal in the future. He was stubborn on that point.
“I would say go free”—he tried to choose his words with care, to make certain the brach understood—“but there are those greater than I who can say I am wrong. I cannot promise they will not do that.”
Tau had switched off the beamer once the drawing had been studied, and Meshler was pulling on his jacket. Dane could not see the brach, only that its nose pointed in his direction. Then came the alien’s answer.
“You feel for us. Will you speak for us?”
“I will. So will all of the ship.”
“More is needed.”
“I cannot promise freedom that another may say no to. That would be a wrong thing. But I shall speak for you.”
“Then there shall be done what can be. If this box can be found—”
The brach went to the haze, nosing around for several paces, almost as if he were sniffing for some weak spot. Then he halted, his head down, and he stood very still. Tau gave a small exclamation and caught at Dane’s arm to draw his attention. On the dimly lighted dial of the detect, the needle was moving, picking up speed until it was a blur. Meshler’s half-choked cry brought their eyes back to the barrier.
To Dane’s sight there was no thinning of the haze, yet the brach was already halfway through and a second or two later stood on the other side. He turned to look back as if to reassure them and then trotted away in the direction they had been going when the field trapped them.
“We stay by the perimeter,” Meshler advised, “but get this as a screen around us.” He nodded to the brush.
What more he might have added was never to be heard, for there was a shrill tearing of the night by noise, such a shriek of insanity as Dane had never heard, sending his hands to his ears, his shoulders hunching as if that sound were a lash laid across his body.