Julian May - The Many-Coloured Land

Richard whistled.

“I don’t think we dare test it on max unless, we want to risk draining the powerpack,” Martha said.

“No chance of recharging?” asked Richard.

“I can’t get the pack open,” she admitted. “It takes a special tool and I was afraid to lark around with it. We’ll just have to save our big zap for the war.”

The gnarled branches of the maquis burned with a pungent resinous odor, snapping and throwing sparks that had to be smacked out. Only a few insects buzzed in the drought-stricken jungle. When it was full dark, the remaining birds and small mammals in the area would come to the spring to drink, and Felice and her bow would glean food for tomorrow.

The blonde athlete said, “I have Lugonn’s place nearly clean now. There’s no sign of the torc.”

Only Martha was able to voice a regret.

Richard said, “Should be plenty of the things lying around if we make good at Finiah. You won’t have to beg the little King for one. Just reach down on the battlefield and grab.”

“Yes,” sighed Felice.

“How have you planned to mount the Spear, Richard?” Claude asked. “I can’t see how we could rig up a pilot-operated trigger given the short time we have left.”

“There’s really only one way to handle it. I hover the aircraft and somebody else shoots the zapper out the open belly hatch. I suppose we could trust one of Chief Burke’s bully boys to…”

The old man said softly, “Every exopaleontologist knows how to handle big zappers. How do you think we cut the rocks to get the specimens out? I’ve carved up a few cliffs in my day, even moved a mountain now and then to get at some really choice fossils.”

Richard chortled. “I’ll be damned. Okay, you’re hired. We’ll be a two-man crew.”

“Three,” said Madame. “You will need me to provide a metapsychic screen for the flyer.”

“Angélique!” Claude protested.

“There is no helping it,” she said. “Velteyn and his Flying Hunt would see you hovering there.”

“You’re not going!” the old man stormed. “Not a chance! We’ll come over Finiah at high altitude, then drop down vertically and take ’em by surprise.”

“You won’t.” Madame was implacable. “They will detect you hovering. We can only hope to surprise them if I conceal the vessel metapsychically during its initial maneuvers. I must go. There is nothing more to be said.”

Claude got to his feet and stood hulking over her. “The hell there isn’t. Do you think I’d let you fly into the middle of a fire-fight? Richard and I have one chance in a hundred of getting out with whole skins. We’re going to need every gram of concentration to do the job and then get out. We can’t afford to be worrying about you.”

“Tchah! Worry about yourself. Radoteur! Who is the leader of this group? C’est moi! Whose plan is it, de toute façon, for the entire attack? Mine! I go!”

“I won’t let you, you stubborn old she-goat!”

“Try to stop me, senile Yankee-Polack viellard!”

“Shrew!”

“Salaud!”

“Ball-breaking old bat!”

“Espèce de con!”

“Shut the hell up!” thundered Felice. “The pair of you are as bad as Richard and Martha!”

The pirate grinned and Martha turned away, nibbling her lip to suppress laughter. Claude’s face blackened with embarrassed rage, and Madame was stunned out of her hauteur.

Richard said, “You two listen to me. The rho-field of the flux-tapper will prevent any of the Tanu Hunt from touching the aircraft. It’ll probably deflect lances and arrows and whatnot, too. So all we really have to worry about is mental attack. For countering that, our only hope is Madame’s metapsychic screen.”

“If I had a torc…” Felice muttered.

Richard asked Madame, “How long can you hold out against a bunch of ’em?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We will be disguised as vapor until we direct the first blasts at the city wall. Then they will know an enemy is there, and many minds will be brought to bear upon my little screen. It is certain to be pierced. We can hope that this will happen after we strike at the mine. Once this is done, we can flee at top speed.”

“How fast can Velteyn’s outfit fly, anyhow?” Richard asked.

“Not much faster than a chaliko at full gallop. The mind of this Tanu champion is able to levitate his own steed and those of twenty-one warriors through PK, psychokinesis. There is only one other who is capable of such a feat and that is Nodonn, the Tanu Battlemaster and Lord of Goriah in Brittany. He can support fifty. There are others who can levitate themselves individually and a few who can carry one or two other persons. But none is strong enough to support many riders save these two.”

“If I had a torc!” Felice wailed. “Oh, wait! Just wait!”

“We’ll leave ’em in the dust,” Richard scoffed. “A couple of zaps to take out the wall on either end of the city, maybe one for the Tanu quarter to demoralize the opposition, then the big zorch for the mine. If that Spear really is a portable cannon, we can melt the place to a slag heap.”

“And come home safely ourselves,” Claude said, staring into the fire. “While our friends fight it out on the ground.”

“Velteyn will try to defend his realm,” Madame warned them. “He is exceptionally strong in creativity, and there are strong coercers in his company. We will be in great danger. Nevertheless, we will go. And we will succeed.” There was a loud snap and an ember flew through the air like a meteor, landing in front of the old woman. She got up and stamped upon it with great thoroughness. “I believe it is time for us to retire. We will want to get up early for Richard’s test flight.”

Martha rose from her place and said to Richard, “Come for a little walk with me before we settle down.”

“Conserve your strength, chérie,” Madame warned.

“We’ll just go a little way,” Richard said.

He slipped one arm around the engineer’s waist to steady her. They went out of the pool of firelight, leaving the others still talking, and walked to the far side of the camp clearing. Only stars illumined the tangle of maquis, for the new moon had gone down. Above them was the overgrown slope with its narrow trail leading to the crater rim. They could not see the refurbished flyer, but they knew it was up there waiting.

“We’ve been happy, Richard. Can you figure it? A pair like us.”

“Two of a kind, Marty. I love you, babe. I never thought it could happen.”

“All you needed was a good old-fashioned sexy girl.”

“Fool.” he said, and kissed her eyes and cold lips.

“When it’s all over, do you think we could come back?”

“Back?” he repeated stupidly.

“After the Finiah attack. You know we’re going to have to teach others how to fly the machine and maintain it so that they can carry out the other two phases of Madame’s plan. But you and I needn’t worry about those. Well have paid our dues. We can have them fly us back here, and then…”

She turned to him and he held her. Too frail and racked by cramps and hemorrhage to endure any further intercourse, she had still insisted upon consoling him. They spent every night in each other’s arms, sharing one of the decamole huts.

“Don’t worry, Marty. Amerie will know how to fix you up for good. We’ll come back here somehow and get a flyer just for ourselves and find us a good place to live. No more Tanu, no more Firvulag or Howlers, no more people at all. Just you and me. We’ll find a place. I promise.”

“I love you, Richard,” she said. “Whatever happens, we’ve had this.”

In the morning. Richard waved goodbye to the others and went up to where the bird stood. It still looked pretty scruffy in spite of the scraping, but he’d soon fix that.