"Pretty far from Tharc, sir." Larsen broke the quiet. "And a scout wouldn't be hauling cargo — "
"Just so." But Hansu had already turned to the Ventur who witnessed the whole scene curiously from the doorway of the warehouse. "You're sure no spacer planeted near here?"
"None at the place we have used. Our mirrors of seeing would have told us — "
"And there is no other landing space within a day's travel? This crawler was carrying cargo. It would not have been carrying arms away from Tharc — not in the windy season. But it might have been trying to reach there from a ship which planeted elsewhere."
The Ventur's nod agreed to the logic in that. "This is a heavy and well-built machine. Those within it, if they did not know the full fury of our winds, might believe themselves safe in its belly. It is true that so they might try to travel to Tharc. But it is equally true that those in Tharc — where the Llor know well the strength of the winds and would warn them — would not venture forth. Let me signal the Masters. It may well be that a ship has made a landing elsewhere."
He vanished into the building. And a few moments later Kosti brought discouraging news from the machine.
"They were on manuals when they smashed up, sir. No tapes. But I don't think she was scouting. The heavy guns were all still under wraps — two of them in storage cradles. She might just have come off a ship and they were driving her in."
"Why not land at Tharc?" Hansu mused. He brought his balled fist down on the edge of the broken caterpillar tread by his shoulder. "I want every bit of her cargo, everything on the bodies of her crew, anything which may give us a clue, brought over to headquarters. And I want it done now!"
14. The Hidden Ship
Though they found indications to prove that the crawler had been part of the cargo of a ship and recently landed to proceed under its own power — perhaps to Tharc — there was no clue as to where that ship had planeted. And in the end it was again the Venturi who were able to supply the missing piece of the puzzle.
The trader's communication expert threaded his way through the group of veterans to Hansu. He wasted no time in getting to the point of the news he had received from his superiors.
"There is an off-world ship grounded six gormels to the south — "
Kana was attempting to translate "gormels" into good Terran miles and making heavy weather of it, when the Ventur continued:
"It is set among the rocks on the coast so it is safe from the winds."
"How large a ship?" Hansu shot back.
The Ventur gave the odd movement of his upper pair of arms which was his species' equivalent of a shrug. "We are not trained in recognizing the capacity of your ships, Lord. And if it had not been that near there we have a small post — " He hesitated before hurrying on, and Kana suspected that that post he mentioned was more a spy than a trader's station. "But this ship is smaller than that which used to planet near here, and it landed secretly during the first storm lull — "
"Fifty miles — " Hansu proved quicker at translation. "The ground between us?"
Again the Ventur shrugged. "Most is waste land. And there will be more heavy blows."
"But a small party could cross overland?" persisted the Blademaster. "Or would your people provide transportation by sea?"
The answer to the last question came first in a vigorous negative. Some trick of the currents offshore along that section of coast forbade landing except in the dead serenity of the calm season. As to crossing overland, the Ventur had no opinion, though he was courteous enough not to speak his truthful estimate of the state of mind of creatures attempting that feat now.
However he agreed to draw up a schedule of the storms and lulls which could be expected during the next three or four days. And Hansu had a second message relayed to the Masters at Po'ult.
The reply came that in the next lull the transports would put in, take on board the majority of the Horde, and leave a small party to make their way to the hidden space ship. It was a desperate plan, but not as desperate as the one they had faced earlier, the necessity for going to Tharc.
The Ventur liaison officer reported for a last check, comparing his set of maps with Hansu's rudely drawn sketch of the coastline and pointing out where the ship must now be.
"The Masters send their wishes for your success," he concluded. "Do you go tonight?"
"Not until the Horde has sailed," Hansu replied absently. His gaze roved over the men assembled in the room. Not all the Combatants could crowd in to hear this final decision — there were the sick and wounded. But who out of that company were going on the venture south? Kana knew that that was at the fore of every mind there.
He did his own secret choosing. Kosti, the small, lean man, had to go. Alone of the Horde he had knowledge of mechanics — had the know-how to take a ship — if they were lucky enough to steal it — into space. And Hansu — Kana was certain that the Blademaster intended being one of the party. But how many — and who?
In the end it depended upon a grisly expedient. The uniforms worn by the Mechs who had manned the crawler were salvaged and cleaned and the fit of one of the tunics selected the man who would wear it. When one settled snugly across Kana's shoulders he knew he was in. And whether to be pleased or alarmed over that fact he had not yet quite decided before the Venturi vessels came in, to ride out a short storm and on the following day depart with the remainder of the Combatants, leaving Hansu and five men on the wharf. As the last conning tower vanished in the murk, the Blademaster reached for the reins of a waiting gu.
"We ought to make our first storm shelter before the next blow. Let's get going!"
The round dome at the improvised space field near the Landing came into view before the onset of the wind. But the protection offered by that one small building had none of the security they had known behind the massive walls of the warehouses. Together with their guen, the six Combatants crouched on the floor, deafened by the howl of the wind, wondering from one moment to the next whether that dome could continue to stand under the frightful pressure. The guen, flattening their bony carcasses as close to the earth as they could, kept up a monotonous whimpering cry which rasped the nerves of the Terrans.
After what must have been hours — but seemed to the dazed men days — later, they realized that the wind was dropping.
"Up with you!" Hansu was on his feet, applying his bat stick to the rump of his gu while the animal showed its fangs in a snarl of rage.
Within five minutes they were on the road, urging their mounts to that stiff-legged trot which left Terran bodies aching and bruised, but which did cover the ground at a good rate. They had been lucky — fabulously lucky so far. But when the dark clouds gathering suggested that they must take cover again there was no building to give them shelter.
Their only hope was a grove of trees, already showing splintered stumps where the wind had mangled them. Into this the Blademaster headed, producing the coils of tough cording which the Venturi had provided against just such an emergency. Each man lashed first his mount and then himself to the sturdiest trees. Since the wind blew straight from the west, they had a thin margin of safety against the eastern side of the trunks and there they dug into the mold, protecting their heads with their crossed arms, squeezing into the ground.
If their stay in the small dome had seemed an ordeal, this was indescribable. One fought to breathe, the battle lasting from one suck of air to the next. Kana lost all track of time, almost all knowledge of his own identity in that dazed, half-conscious struggle for air. Then hands pulled at him and he rolled limply over on his back. A palm smacked against his cheek, rocking his head on the ground.