He half crouched5 against the questionable6 security of the wall, waiting through two more twisting earth waves, both of which were accompanied or preceded by dull sounds. Bombing! That last wrench7 was really bad. Ross found himself lying on the floor, feeling tremors8 rippling9 along the earth. His stomach knotted convulsively with a fear unlike any he had known before. It was as if the very security of the world had been jerked from under him.
But that last explosion—if it was an explosion—appeared to be the end. Ross sat up gingerly after several long moments during which no more shocks moved the floor and walls. A line of light marked the door, showing cracks where none had previously10 existed. Ross, not yet ready to try standing11 erect12, was heading toward it on his hands and knees when a sharp noise behind him brought him to a stop.
There was no light to see by, but he was certain that the scrape of metal against metal sounded from the far side of the wall. He crawled back and put his ear to the surface. Now he heard not only that scraping, but an undercurrent of clicks, chippings....
Under his exploring hands the surface remained as smooth as ever, however. Then suddenly, perhaps a foot from his head, there sounded a rip of metal. The wall was being holed from the other side! Ross caught a flicker14 of very weak light, and moving in it was the point of a tool pulling at the smooth surface of the wall. It broke away with a brittle15 sound, and a hand holding a light reached through the aperture16.
Ross wondered if he should catch that wrist, but the hope that the digger might just possibly be an ally kept him motionless. After the hand with the light whipped back beyond the wall, a wide section gave away and a hunched17 figure crawled through, followed by a second. In the limited glow he saw the first tunneler clearly enough.
"Assha!"
Ross was unprepared for what followed his cry. The lean brown man moved with a panther's striking speed, and Ross was forced back. A hand like a steel ring on his throat shut the breath away from his bursting lungs; the other's muscular body held him flat in spite of his struggles. The light of the small flash glowed inches beyond his eyes as he fought to fill his lungs. Then the hand on his throat was gone and he gasped18, a little dizzy.
"Murdock! What are you doing—?" Ashe's clipped voice was muffled19 by another sudden explosion. This time the earth tremors not only hurled20 them from their feet, but seemed to run along the walls and across the ceiling. Ross, burying his face in the crook21 of his arm, could not rid himself of the fear that the building was being slowly twisted into scrap13. When the shock was over he raised his head.
"What's going on?" He heard McNeil ask.
"Attack." That was Ashe. "But why, and by whom—don't ask me! You are a prisoner, I suppose, Murdock?"
"Yes, sir." Ross was glad that his voice sounded normal enough.
He heard someone sigh and guessed it was McNeil. "Another digging party." There was tired disgust in that.
"I don't understand," Ross appealed to that section of the dark where Ashe had been. "Have you been here all the time? Are you trying to dig your way out? I don't see how you can cut out of this glacier22 that we're parked under——"
"Glacier!" Ashe's exclamation23 was as explosive as the tremors. "So we're inside a glacier! That explains it. Yes, we've been here—"
"On ice!" McNeil commented and then laughed. "Glacier—ice—that's right, isn't it?"
"We're collaborating," Ashe continued. "Supplying our dear friends with a lot of information they already have and some flights of fancy they never dreamed about. However, they didn't know we had a few surprise packets of our own strewn about. It's amazing what the boys back at the project can pack away in a belt, or between layers of hide in a boot. So we've been engaged in some research of our own——"
"But I didn't have any escape gadgets24." Ross was struck by the unfairness of that.
"No," Ashe agreed, his voice even and cold, "they are not entrusted25 to first-run men. You might slip up and use them at the wrong moment. However, you appear to have done fairly well...."
The heat of Ross's rising anger was chilled by the noise which cracked over their heads, ground to them through the walls, flattened26 and threatened them. He had thought those first shocks the end of this ice burrow27 and the world; he knew that this one was.
And the silence that followed was as threatening in its way as the clamor had been. Then there was a shout, a shriek28. The space of light near the cell door was widening as that barrier, broken from its lock, swung open slowly. The fear of being trapped sent the men in that direction.
"Out!"
Ross was ready enough to respond to that order, but they were stopped by a crackle of sound that could be only one thing—rapid-fire guns. Somewhere in this warren a fight was in progress. Ross, remembering the arrogant29 face of the bald ship's officer, wondered if this was not an attack in force—the aliens against the looting Reds. If so, would the ship people distinguish between those found here. He feared not.
The room outside was clear, but not for long. As they lay watching, two men backed in, then whirled to stare at each other. A voice roared from beyond as if ordering them back to some post. One of them took a step forward in reluctant obedience30, but the other grabbed his arm and pulled him away. They turned to run, and an automatic cracked.
The man nearest Ross gave a queer little cough and folded forward to his knees, sprawling31 on his face. His companion stared at him wildly for an instant, and then skidded32 into the passage beyond, escaping by inches a shot which clipped the door as he lunged through it.
No one followed, for outside there was a crescendo34 of noise—shouting, cries of pain, an unidentifiable hissing35. Ashe darted36 into the room, taking cover by the body. Then he came back, the fellow's gun in his hand, and with a jerk of his head summoned the other two. He motioned them on in a direction away from the sounds of battle.
"I don't get all this," McNeil commented as they reached the next passage. "What's going on? Mutiny? Or have our boys gotten through?"
"It must be the ship people," Ross answered.
"What ship?" Ashe caught him up swiftly.
"The big one the Reds have been looting——"
"Ship?" echoed McNeil. "And where did you get that rig?" In the bright light it was easy to see Ross's alien dress. McNeil fingered the elastic37 material wonderingly.
"From the ship," Ross returned impatiently. "But if the ship people are attacking, I don't think they will notice any difference between us and the Reds...."
There was a burst of ear-splitting sound. For the third time Ross was thrown from his feet. This time the burrow lights flickered38, dimmed, and went out.
"Oh, fine," commented McNeil bitterly out of the dark. "I never did care for blindman's buff."
"The transfer plate—" Ross clung to his own plan of escape—"if we can reach that—"
The light which had served Ashe and McNeil in their tunneling clicked on. Since the earth shocks appeared to be over for a while, they moved on, with Ashe in the lead and McNeil bringing up the rear. Ross hoped Ashe knew the way. The sound of fighting had died out, so one side or the other must have gained the victory. They might have only a few moments left to pass undetected.
Ross's sense of direction was fairly acute, but he could not have gone so unerringly to what he sought as Ashe did. Only he did not lead them to the room with the glowing plate, and Ross stifled39 a protest as they came instead to a small record room.
On a table were three spools40 of tape which Ashe caught up avidly41, thrusting two in the front of his baggy42 tunic43, passing the third to McNeil. Then he sped about trying the cupboards on the walls, but all were locked. His hand falling from the last latch44, Ashe came back to the door where Ross waited.
"To the plate!" Ross urged.
Ashe surveyed the cupboards once more regretfully. "If we could have just ten minutes here——"
McNeil snorted. "Listen, you may yearn45 to be the filling in an ice sandwich, but I don't! Another shock and we'll be buried so deep even a drill couldn't find us. Let's get out now. The kid is right about that—if we still can."
Once more Ashe took the lead and they wove through ghostly rooms to what must have been the heart of the post—the transfer point. To Ross's unvoiced relief the plate was glowing. He had been nagged46 by the fear that when the lights blew out the transfer plate might also have been affected47. He jumped for the plate.
Neither Ashe nor McNeil wasted time in joining him there. As they clung together there was a cry from behind them, underlined by a shot. Ross, feeling Ashe sag33 against him, caught him in his arms. By the reflected glow of the plate he saw the Red leader of the post and behind him, his hairless face hanging oddly bodiless in the gloom, was the alien. Were those two now allies? Before Ross could be sure that he had really seen them, the wracking of space time caught him and the rest of the room faded away.
"... free. Get a move on!"
Ross glanced across Ashe's bowed shoulders to McNeil's excited face. The other was pulling at Ashe, who was only half-conscious. A stream of blood from a hole in his bare shoulder soaked the upper edge of his Beaker tunic, but as they steadied him between them, he gained some measure of awareness48 and moved his feet as they pulled him off the plate.
Well, they were free if only for a few seconds, and there was no reception committee waiting for them. Ross gave thanks silently for those two small favors. But if they were now returned to the Bronze Age village, they were still in enemy territory. With Ashe wounded, the odds49 against them were so high it was almost hopeless.
Working hurriedly with strips torn from McNeil's kilt, they managed to stop the flow of blood from Ashe's wound. Although he was still groggy50, he was fighting, driven by the fear which whipped them all—time was one of their foremost enemies. Ross, Ashe's gun in hand, kept watch on the transfer plate, ready to shoot at anything appearing there.
"That will have to do!" Ashe pulled free from McNeil. "We must move." He hesitated, and then pulling the spools of tape from his bloodstained tunic, passed them to McNeil. "You'd better carry these."
"All right," the other answered almost absently.
"Move!" The force of that order from Ashe sent them into the corridor beyond. "The plate...."
But the plate remained clear. And Ross noted51 that they must have returned to the proper time, for the walls about them were the logs and stone of the village he remembered.
"Someone coming through?"
"Should be—soon."
They fled, the hide boots of the other two making only the faintest whisper of sound, Ross's foam-soled feet none at all. He could not have found the door to the outer world, but again Ashe guided them, and only once did they have to seek cover. At last they faced a barred door. Ashe leaned against the wall, McNeil supporting him, as Ross pulled free the locking beam. They let themselves out into the night.
"Which way?" McNeil asked.
To Ross's surprise Ashe did not turn to the gate in the outer stockade52. Instead he gestured at the mountain wall in the opposite direction. "They'll expect us to try for the valley pass. So we had better go up the slope there."
"That has the look of a tough climb," ventured McNeil.
Ashe stirred. "When it becomes too tough for me"—his voice was dry—"I shall say so, never fear."
He started out with some of his old ease of movement, but his companions closed in on either side, ready to offer aid. Ross often wondered later if they could have won free of the village on their own efforts that night. He was sure their resolution would have been equal to the attempt, but their escape would have depended upon a fabulous53 run of luck such as men seldom encounter.
As it was, they had just reached a pool of shadow beside a small hut some two buildings away from the one they had fled, when the fireworks began. As if on signal the three fugitives54 threw themselves flat. From the roof of the building at the center of the village a pencil of brilliant-green light pointed55 straight up into the sky, and around that spear of radiance the roof sprouted56 tongues of more natural red-and-yellow flames. Figures shot from doors as the fire lapped down the peak of the roof.
"Now!" In spite of the rising clamor, Ashe's voice carried to his two companions.
The three sprinted57 for the palisade, mingling58 with bewildered men who ran out of the other cabins. The waves of fire washed on, providing light, too much light. Ashe and McNeil could pass as part of the crowd, but Ross's unusual clothing might be easily marked.
Others were running for the wall. Ross and McNeil boosted Ashe to the top, saw him over in safety. McNeil followed. Ross was just reaching to draw himself up when he was enveloped59 in a beam of light.
A high, screeching60 call, unlike any shout he had heard, split the clamor. Frantically61 Ross tried for a hold, knowing that he was presenting a perfect target for those behind. He gained the top of the stockade, looked down into a black block of shadow, not knowing whether Ashe and McNeil were waiting for him or had gone ahead. Hearing that strange cry again, Ross leaped blindly out into the darkness.
He landed badly, hitting hard enough to bruise62, but thanks to the skill he had learned for parachuting, he broke no bones. He got to his feet and blundered on in the general direction of the mountain Ashe had picked as their goal. There were others coming over the wall of the village and moving through the shadows, so he dared not call out for fear of alerting the enemy.
The village had been set in the widest part of the valley. Behind its stockade the open ground narrowed swiftly, like the point of a funnel63, and all fugitives from the settlement had to pass through that channel to escape. Ross's worst fear was that he had lost contact with Ashe and McNeil, and that he would never be able to pick up their trail in the wilderness64 ahead.
Thankful for the dark suit he wore which was protective covering in the night, he twice ducked into the brush to allow parties of refugees to pass him. Hearing them speak the guttural clicking speech he had learned from Ulffa's people, Ross deduced that they were innocent of the village's real purpose. These people were convinced they had been attacked by night demons65. Perhaps there had only been a handful of Reds in that hidden retreat.
Ross pulled himself up a hard climb, and pausing to catch his breath, looked back. He was not overly surprised to see figures moving leisurely66 about the village examining the cabins, perhaps in search of the inhabitants. Each of those searchers was clad in a form-fitting suit that matched his own, and their bulbous hairless heads gleamed white in the firelight. Ross was astonished to see that they passed straight through walls of flame, apparently67 unconcerned and unsinged by the heat.
The human beings trapped in the town wailed68 and ran, or lay and beat their heads and hands on the ground, supine before the invaders69. Each captive was dragged back to a knot of aliens near the main building. Some were hurled out again into the dark, unharmed; a few others were retained. A sorting of prisoners was plainly in progress. There was no question that the ship people had followed through into this time, and that they had their own arrangements for the Reds.
Ross had no desire to learn the particulars. He started climbing again, finding the pass at last. Beyond, the ground fell away again, and Ross went forward into the full darkness of the night with a vast surge of thankfulness.
Finally, he stopped simply because he was too weary, too hungry, to keep on his feet without stumbling, and a fall in the dark on these heights could be costly70. Ross discovered a small hollow behind a stunted71 tree and crept into it as best he could, his heart laboring72 against his ribs73, a hot stab of pain cutting into his side with every breath he drew.
He awoke all at once with the snap of a fighting man who is alert to ever present danger. A hand lay warm and hard over his mouth, and above it his eyes met McNeil's. When he saw that Ross was awake McNeil withdraw his hand. The morning sunlight was warm about them. Moving clumsily because of his stiff, bruised74 body, Ross crawled out of the hollow. He looked around, but McNeil stood there alone. "Ashe?" Ross questioned him.
McNeil, showing a haggard face covered with several days' growth of rusty-brown beard, nodded his head toward the slope. Fumbling75 inside his kilt, he brought out something clenched76 in his fist and offered it to Ross. The latter held out his palm and McNeil covered it with a handful of coarse-ground grain. Just to look at the stuff made Ross long for a drink, but he mouthed it and chewed, getting up to follow McNeil down into the tree-grown lower slopes.
"It's not good." McNeil spoke77 jerkily, using Beaker speech. "Ashe is out of his head some of the time. That hole in his shoulder is worse than we thought it was, and there's always the threat of infection. This whole wood is full of people flushed out of that blasted village! Most of them—all I've seen—are natives. But they have it firmly planted in their minds now that there are devils after them. If they see you wearing that suit——"
"I know, and I'd strip if I could," Ross agreed. "But I'll have to get other clothing first; I can't run bare in this cold."
"That might be safer," McNeil growled78. "I don't know just what happened back there, but it certainly must have been plenty!"
Ross swallowed a very dry mouthful of grain and then stooped to scoop79 up some leftover80 snow in the shadow of a tree root. It was not as refreshing81 as a real drink, but it helped. "You said Ashe is out of his head. What do we do for him, and what are your plans?"
"We have to reach the river, somehow. It drains to the sea, and at its mouth we are supposed to make contact with the sub."
The proposal sounded impossible to Ross, but so many impossible things had happened lately he was willing to go along with the idea—as long as he could. Gathering82 up more snow, he stuffed it into his mouth before he followed the already disappearing McNeil.
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1
fended
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| v.独立生活，照料自己( fend的过去式和过去分词 )；挡开，避开 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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5
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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8
tremors
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| 震颤( tremor的名词复数 )； 战栗； 震颤声； 大地的轻微震动 | |
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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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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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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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13
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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14
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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15
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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16
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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19
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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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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22
glacier
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| n.冰川，冰河 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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gadgets
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| n.小机械，小器具（ gadget的名词复数 ） | |
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25
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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27
burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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28
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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31
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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32
skidded
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| v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的过去式和过去分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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33
sag
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| v.下垂，下跌，消沉；n.下垂，下跌，凹陷，[航海]随风漂流 | |
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34
crescendo
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| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
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35
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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36
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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37
elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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38
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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40
spools
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| n.（绕线、铁线、照相软片等的）管( spool的名词复数 )；络纱；纺纱机；绕圈轴工人v.把…绕到线轴上（或从线轴上绕下来）( spool的第三人称单数 )；假脱机（输出或输入） | |
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41
avidly
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| adv.渴望地，热心地 | |
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42
baggy
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| adj.膨胀如袋的，宽松下垂的 | |
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43
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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44
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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45
yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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46
nagged
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| adj.经常遭责怪的；被压制的；感到厌烦的；被激怒的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的过去式和过去分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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47
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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48
awareness
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| n.意识，觉悟，懂事，明智 | |
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49
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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50
groggy
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| adj.体弱的；不稳的 | |
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51
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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52
stockade
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| n.栅栏，围栏；v.用栅栏防护 | |
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53
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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54
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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sprouted
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| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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sprinted
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| v.短距离疾跑( sprint的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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screeching
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的现在分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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bruise
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| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
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funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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invaders
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| 入侵者，侵略者，侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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scoop
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| n.铲子，舀取，独家新闻；v.汲取，舀取，抢先登出 | |
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leftover
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| n.剩货，残留物，剩饭；adj.残余的 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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