He had been taught a blow during his training period, one which required a precise delivery and, he had been warned, was often fatal. He would use it now. The climber was very close. A cropped head arose through the floor opening, and Ross struck, knowing as his hand chopped against the folds of a fur hood1 that he had failed.
But the impetus2 of that unexpected blow saved him after all. With a choked cry the man disappeared, crashing down upon the one following him. A scream and shouts were heard from below, and a shot ripped up the well as Ross scrambled3 away from it. He might have delayed the final battle, but they had him cornered. He faced that fact bleakly4. They need only sit below and let nature take its course. His session in the lifeboat had restored his strength, but a man could not live forever without food and water.
However, he had bought himself perhaps a yard of time which must be put to work. Turning to examine the seats, Ross discovered that they could be unhooked from their webbing swings. Freeing all of them, he dragged their weight to the stairwell and jammed them together to make a barricade5. It could not hold long against any determined6 push from below, but, he hoped, it would deflect7 bullets if some sharpshooter tried to wing him by ricochet. Every so often there was the crash of a shot and some shouting, but Ross was not going to be drawn8 out of cover by that.
He paced around the control cabin, still hunting for a weapon. The symbols on the levers and buttons were meaningless to him. They made him feel frustrated9 because he imagined that among that countless10 array were some that might help him out of the trap if he could only guess their use.
Once more he stood by the platform thinking. This was the point from which the ship had been sailed—in the air or on some now frozen sea. These control boards must have given the ship's master the means not only of propelling the vast bulk, but of unloading and loading cargo12, lighting13, heating, ventilation, and perhaps defense14! Of course, every control might be dead now, but he remembered that in the lifeboat the machines had worked successfully, fulfilled expertly the duty for which they had been constructed.
The only step remaining was to try his luck. Having made his decision, Ross simply shut his eyes as he had in a very short and almost forgotten childhood, turned around three times, and pointed15. Then he looked to see where luck had directed him.
His finger indicated a board before which there had been three seats, and he crossed to it slowly, with a sense that once he touched the controls he might inaugurate a chain of events he could not stop. The crash of a shot underlined the fact that he had no other recourse.
Since the symbols meant nothing, Ross concentrated on the shapes of the various devices and chose one which vaguely16 resembled the type of light switch he had always known. Since it was up, he pressed it down, counting to twenty slowly as he waited for a reaction. Below the switch was an oval button marked with two wiggles and a double dot in red. Ross snapped it level with the panel, and when it did not snap back, he felt somehow encouraged. When the two levers flanking that button did not push in or move up and down, Ross pulled them out without even waiting to count off.
This time he had results! A crackling of noise with a singsong rhythm, the volume of which, low at first, arose to a drone filled the cabin. Ross, deafened17 by the din11, twisted first one lever and then the other until he had brought the sound to a less piercing howl. But he needed action, not just noise; he moved from behind the first chair to the next one. Here were five oval buttons, marked in the same vivid green as that which trimmed his clothing—two wiggles, a dot, a double bar, a pair of entwined circles, and a crosshatch.
Why make a choice? Recklessness bubbled to the surface, and Ross pushed all the buttons in rapid succession. The results were, in a measure, spectacular. Out of the top of the control board rose a triangle of screen which steadied and stood firm while across it played a rippling18 wave of color. Meanwhile the singsong became an angry squawking as if in protest.
Well, he had something, even if he didn't know what it was! And he had also proved that the ship was alive. However, Ross wanted more than a squawk of exasperation19, which was exactly what the noise had become. It almost sounded, Ross decided20 as he listened, as if he were being expertly chewed out in another language. Yes, he wanted more than a series of squawks and a fanciful display of light waves on a screen.
At the section of board before the third and last seat there was less choice—only two switches. As Ross flicked21 up the first the pattern on the screen dwindled22 into a brown color shot with cream in which there was a suggestion of a picture. Suppose one didn't put the switch all the way up? Ross examined the slot in which the bar moved and now noted23 a series of tiny point marks along it. Selective? It would not do any harm to see. First he hurried back to the cork24 of chairs he had jammed into the stairwell. The squawks were now coming only at intervals25, and Ross could hear nothing to suggest that his barrier was being forced.
He returned to the lever and moved it back two notches26, standing28 open-mouthed at the immediate29 result. The cream-and-brown streaks30 were making a picture! Moving another notch27 down caused the picture to skitter back and forth32 on the screen. With memories of TV tuning33 to guide him, Ross brought the other lever down to a matching position, and the dim and shadowy images leaped into clear and complete focus. But the color was still brown, not the black and white he had expected.
Only, he was also looking into a face! Ross swallowed, his hand grasping one of the strings34 of chair webbing for support. Perhaps because in some ways it did resemble his own, that face was more preposterously35 nonhuman. The visage on the screen was sharply triangular36 with a small, sharply pointed chin and a jaw37 line running at an angle from a broad upper face. The skin was dark, covered largely with a soft and silky down, out of which hooked a curved and shining nose set between two large round eyes. On top of that astonishing head the down rose to a peak not unlike a cockatoo's crest38. Yet there was no mistaking the intelligence in those eyes, nor the other's amazement39 at sight of Ross. They might have been staring at each other through a window.
Squawk ... squeek ... squawk.... The creature in the mirror—on the vision plate—or outside the window—moved its absurdly small mouth in time to those sounds. Ross swallowed again and automatically made answer.
"Hello." His voice was a weak whistle, and perhaps it did not reach the furry-faced one, for he continued his questions if questions they were. Meanwhile Ross, over his first stupefaction, tried to see something of the creature's background. Though the objects were slightly out of focus, he was sure he recognized fittings similar to those about him. He must be in communication with another ship of the same type and one which was not deserted40!
Furry-face had turned his head away to squawk rapidly over his shoulder, a shoulder which was crossed by a belt or sash with an elaborate pattern. Then he got up from his seat and stood aside to make room for the one he had summoned.
If Furry-face had been a startling surprise, Ross was now to have another. The man who now faced him on the screen was totally different. His skin registered as pale—cream-colored—and his face was far more human in shape, though it was hairless as was the smooth dome41 of his skull42. When one became accustomed to that egg slickness, the stranger was not bad-looking, and he was wearing a suit which matched the one Ross had taken from the lifeboat.
This one did not attempt to say anything. Instead, he stared at Ross long and measuringly, his eyes growing colder and less friendly with every second of that examination. Ross had resented Kelgarries back at the project, but the major could not match Baldy for the sheer weight of unpleasant warning he could pack into a look. Ross might have been startled by Furry-face, but now his stubborn streak31 arose to meet this implied challenge. He found himself breathing hard and glaring back with an intensity43 which he hoped would get across and prove to Baldy that he would not have everything his own way if he proposed to tangle44 with Ross.
His preoccupation with the stranger on the screen betrayed Ross into the hands of those from below. He heard their attack on the barricade too late. By the time he turned around, the cork of seats was heaved up and a gun was pointing at his middle. His hands went up in small reluctant jerks as that threat held him where he was. Two of the fur-clad Reds climbed into the control chamber45.
Ross recognized the leader as Ashe's double, the man he had followed across time. He blinked for just an instant as he faced Ross and then shouted an order at his companion. The other spun46 Murdock around, bringing his hands down behind him to clamp his wrists together. Once again Ross fronted the screen and saw Baldy watching the whole scene with an expression suggesting that he had been shocked out of his complacent47 superiority.
"Ah...." Ross's captors were staring at the screen and the unearthly man there. Then one flung himself at the control panel and his hands whipped back and forth, restoring to utter silence both screen and room.
"What are you?" The man who might have been Ashe spoke48 slowly in the Beaker tongue, drilling Ross with his stare as if by the force of his will alone he could pull the truth out of his prisoner.
"What do you think I am?" Ross countered. He was wearing the uniform of Baldy, and he had clearly established contact with the time owners of this ship. Let that worry the Red!
But they did not try to answer him. At a signal he was led to the stair. To descend49 that ladder with his hands behind him was almost impossible, and they had to pause at the next level to unclasp the handcuffs and let him go free. Keeping a gun on him carefully, they hurried along, trying to push the pace while Ross delayed all he could. He realized that in his recognition of the power of the gun back in the control chamber, his surrender to its threat, he had betrayed his real origin. So he must continue to confuse the trail to the project in every possible way left to him. He was sure that this time they would not leave him in the first convenient crevice50.
He knew he was right when they covered him with a fur parka at the entrance to the ship, once more manacling his hands and dropping a noose51 leash52 on him.
So, they were taking him back to their post here. Well, in the post was the time transporter which could return him to his own kind. It would be, it must be possible to get to that! He gave his captors no more trouble but trudged53, outwardly dispirited, along the rutted way through the snow up the slope and out of the valley.
He did manage to catch a good look at the globe-ship. More than half of it, he judged, was below the surface of the ground. To be so buried it must either have lain there a long time or, if it were an air vessel54, crashed hard enough to dig itself that partial grave. Yet Ross had established contact with another ship like it, and neither of the creatures he had seen were human, at least not human in any way he knew.
Ross chewed on that as he walked. He believed that those with him were looting the ship of its cargo, and by its size, that cargo must be a large one. But cargo from where? Made by what hands, what kind of hands? Enroute to what port? And how had the Reds located the ship in the first place? There were plenty of questions and very few answers. Ross clung to the hope that somehow he had endangered the Reds' job here by activating55 the communication system of the derelict and calling the attention of its probable owners to its fate.
He also believed that the owners might take steps to regain56 their property. Baldy had impressed him deeply during those few moments of silent appraisal57, and he knew he would not like to be on the receiving end of any retaliation58 from the other. Well, now he had only one chance, to keep the Reds guessing as long as he could and hope for some turn of fate which would allow him to try for the time transport. How the plate operated he did not know, but he had been transferred here from the Beaker age and if he could return to that time, escape might be possible. He had only to reach the river and follow it down to the sea where the sub was to make rendezvous59 at intervals. The odds60 were overwhelmingly against him, and Ross knew it. But there was no reason, he decided, to lie down and roll over dead to please the Reds.
As they approached the post Ross realized how much skill had gone into its construction. It looked as if they were merely coming up to the outer edge of a glacier61 tongue. Had it not been for the track in the snow, there would have been no reason to suspect that the ice covered anything but a thick core of its own substance. Ross was shoved through the white-walled tunnel to the building beyond.
He was hurried through the chain of rooms to a door and thrust through, his hands still fastened. It was dark in the cubby and colder than it had been outside. Ross stood still, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. It was several moments after the door had slammed shut that he caught a faint thud, a dull and hollow sound.
"Who is here?" he used the Beaker speech, determining to keep to the rags of his cover, which probably was a cover no longer. There was no reply, but after a pause that distant beat began again. Ross stepped cautiously forward, and by the simple method of running fullface into the walls, discovered that he was in a bare cell. He also discovered that the noise lay behind the left-hand wall, and he stood with his ear flat against it, listening. The sound did not have the regular rhythm of a machine in use—there were odd pauses between some blows, others came in a quick rain. It was as if someone were digging!
Were the Reds engaged in enlarging their icebound headquarters? Having listened for a considerable time, Ross doubted that, for the sound was too irregular. It seemed almost as if the longer pauses were used to check up on the result of labor—was it the extent of the excavation62 or the continued preservation63 of secrecy64?
Ross slipped down along the wall, his shoulders still resting against it, and rested with his head twisted so he could hear the tapping. Meanwhile he flexed65 his wrists inside the hoops66 which confined them, and folding his hands as small as possible, tried to slip them through the rings. The only result was that he chafed67 his skin raw to no advantage. They had not taken off his parka, and in spite of the chill about him, he was too warm. Only that part of his body covered by the suit he had taken from the ship was comfortable; he could almost believe that it possessed68 some built-in conditioning device.
With no hope of relief Ross rubbed his hands back and forth against the wall, scraping the hoops on his wrists. The distant pounding had ceased, and this time the pause lengthened69 into so long a period that Ross fell asleep, his head falling forward on his chest, his raw wrists still pushed against the surface behind him.
He was hungry when he awoke, and with that hunger his rebellion sparked into flame. Awkwardly he got to his feet and lurched along to the door through which he had been thrown, where he proceeded to kick at the barrier. The cushiony stuff forming the soles of his tights muffled70 most of the force of those blows, but some noise was heard outside, for the door opened and Ross faced one of the guards.
"Food! I want to eat!" He put into the Beaker language all the resentment71 boiling in him.
The fellow ignoring him, reached in a long arm, and nearly tossing the prisoner off balance, dragged him out of the cell. Ross was marched into another room to face what appeared to be a tribunal. Two of the men there he knew—Ashe's double and the quiet man who had questioned him back in the other time station. The third, clearly one of greater authority, regarded Ross bleakly.
"Who are you?" the quiet man asked.
"Rossa, son of Gurdi. And I would eat before I make talk with you. I have not done any wrong that you should treat me as a barbarian72 who has stolen salt from the trading post——"
"You are an agent," the leader corrected him dispassionately, "of whom you will tell us in due time. But first you shall speak of the ship, of what you found there, and why you meddled73 with the controls.... Wait a moment before you refuse, my young friend." He raised his hand from his lap, and once again Ross faced an automatic. "Ah, I see that you know what I hold—odd knowledge for an innocent Bronze Age trader. And please have no doubts about my hesitation74 to use this. I shall not kill you, naturally," the man continued, "but there are certain wounds which supply a maximum of pain and little serious damage. Remove his parka, Kirschov."
Once more Ross was unmanacled, the fur stripped from him. His questioner carefully studied the suit he wore under it. "Now you will tell us exactly what we wish to hear."
There was a confidence in that statement which chilled Ross; Major Kelgarries had displayed its like. Ashe had it in another degree, and certainly it had been present in Baldy. There was no doubt that the speaker meant exactly what he said. He had at his command methods which would wring75 from his captive the full sum of what he wanted, and there would be no consideration for that captive during the process.
His implied threat struck as cold as the glacial air, and Ross tried to meet it with an outward show of uncracked defenses. He decided to pick and choose from his information, feeding them scraps76 to stave off the inevitable77. Hope dies very hard, and Ross having been pushed into corners long before his work at the project, had had considerable training in verbal fencing with hostile authority. He would volunteer nothing.... Let it be pulled from him reluctant word by word! He would spin it out as long as he could and hope that time might fight for him.
"You are an agent...."
Ross accepted this statement as one he would neither affirm nor deny.
"You came to spy under the cover of a barbarian trader," smoothly78, without pause, the man changed language in mid-sentence, slipping from the Beaker speech into English.
But long experience in meeting the dangerous with an expression of complete lack of comprehension was Ross's weapon now. He stared somewhat stupidly at his interrogator79 with that bewildered, boyish look he had so long cultivated to bemuse enemies in his past.
Whether he could have held out long against the other's skill—for Ross possessed no illusions concerning the type of examiner he now faced—he was never to know. Perhaps the drastic interruption that occurred the next moment saved for Ross a measure of self-esteem.
There was a distant boom, hollow and thunderous. Underneath80 and around them the floor, walls, and ceiling of the room moved as if they had been pried81 from their setting of ice and were being rolled about by the exploring thumb and forefinger82 of some impatient giant.
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1
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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bleakly
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| 无望地，阴郁地，苍凉地 | |
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barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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deflect
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| v.(使)偏斜，(使)偏离，(使)转向 | |
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8
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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9
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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10
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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12
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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14
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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15
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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16
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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deafened
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| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
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18
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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20
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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21
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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22
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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24
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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26
notches
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| n.（边缘或表面上的）V型痕迹( notch的名词复数 )；刻痕；水平；等级 | |
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notch
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| n.(V字形)槽口，缺口，等级 | |
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28
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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30
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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31
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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32
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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33
tuning
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| n.调谐，调整，调音v.调音( tune的现在分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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34
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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preposterously
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| adv.反常地；荒谬地；荒谬可笑地；不合理地 | |
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36
triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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37
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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38
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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39
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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40
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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41
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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42
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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43
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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44
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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45
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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46
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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47
complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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48
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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49
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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50
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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51
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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52
leash
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| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
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53
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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54
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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55
activating
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| 活动的，活性的 | |
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56
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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appraisal
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| n.对…作出的评价；评价，鉴定，评估 | |
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58
retaliation
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| n.报复，反击 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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glacier
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| n.冰川，冰河 | |
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62
excavation
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| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
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63
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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65
flexed
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| adj.[医]曲折的，屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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66
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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67
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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71
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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meddled
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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75
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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76
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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78
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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interrogator
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| n.讯问者；审问者；质问者；询问器 | |
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80
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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81
pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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