Гарри Гаррисон - Planet Of No Return

Brion shook him about like a rag, then waved the necklace of bones before his face. “You will tell me what I want to know. Then you will have this back. You understand me? Say yes. Say yes!”

“Yes …” Ravn gasped. “Yes.”

Brion did not let the sensation of victory show in his face. The anger was still in his voice when he dropped Ravn to the ground and sat beside him. His questions were imperative and demanded an answer. Ravn answered them, as best he could, concealing nothing. After a great amount of time had passed his voice became hoarse and his words stumbled one over the other. It was more than enough for a beginning, Brion thought. He was about to return the necklace when he noticed his own amputated finger threaded into place among the bones. It was a part of him — and it must have had some important meaning to these people or they would not have taken it in this manner. Well they weren’t going to get it back. Brion seized the dry flesh of the thing and tore it from the necklace.

“This is mine forever. The rest you can have for now.” Brion hurled the necklace to the ground. “We will now go back to my place. You will talk to me again whenever I wish it.”

Ravn slipped the necklace over his head with trembling hands, then pushed himself to his feet. All rebellion had vanished. Brion knew that from now on the old man would do everything that he was told. As soon as the other’s back was turned Brion let the desiccated finger slip to the ground, happy to be rid of the thing. It had served its purpose.

“Woman, we will eat!” Brion called out in the native language as he led his exhausted prisoner back to their camp. Lea flared her nostrils at his words and tone of voice.

“Does this male chauvinist pig act mean that we are finally getting somewhere with Old Dirty here?”

“It does, my precious one.” He winked as he shouted the words. “Please feed him, then I can put him to bed, after which I will tell you some of the interesting things I have learned.”

“If you don’t mind, we’ll eat separately. I never have got used to his diet of decayed raw meat.”

“I’ve found out about that as well. Let’s feed him and stake him out. I don’t think he’ll give us any more trouble.”

Ravn’s loud snores sounded from the high grass where he had been bedded down for the night — with a braided length of rawhide securing his foot to a stake driven deep into the ground. He would be there when they wanted him.

“They’re primitives,” Brion said, chewing steadily on the dried rations. “Unbelievably primitive in every way, with all of their activities determined by strict taboos. Men are hunters and in control of all activities …”

“Not for the first time in the history of mankind.”

“Agreed. But this an all or nothing society, completely black and white without any shades of grey that I can find so far. The men hunt, and everyone eats what they bring back. Raw, as we know. Eating anything else is taboo. Eating cooked food is taboo. Leaving the forest for the plain is taboo — other than brief forays for hunting. Men may make and use weapons, but anyone else …”

“I know. It’s taboo. Did you find out why they staged that night attack when they captured us?”

“Still the taboo thing. They saw us near the lifeship — and machines appear to be the biggest taboo of all.”

“That might have something to do with the war machines.”

“I’m sure it does, but that’s all I could get out of him at the time.”

“Did you at least discover what was so important about the bone necklace.”

“I think I did. It’s complicated and I didn’t follow some of the words, but it seems to work like this. A man has a spirit, some sort of essential being. Women and children don’t, as you might have guessed. They just die and are forgotten like animals. But if a piece of a man is kept by the Ravn, why then he is considered still alive and part of the tribe, and still subject to the Ravn’s discipline. They were going to kill us in some ritually delightful way because we are taboo. But he was keeping my finger because that way I would always be under his control.”

“Delightful. Does this mean that stashed away someplace they have the finger bones of all their ancestors?”

“Probably. But essentially this sort of logic is no different in principal from all of the other cultures that bury their dead. In fact this is more practical. Just keeping a finger bone is a lot easier than a complete skeleton.”

Lea looked up at the star-filled sky and shivered.

“And these people are descendants of cultured and intelligent human beings. How did this ever happen?”

“I have no idea. Yet.”

“What is the connection between these primitives and the modern warfare we have seen here?”

“I have no idea of the answer to that one either. But I intend to find out. If Ravn doesn’t know, or pretends not to know, then some of the others will tell me. And they may have artefacts that will give us a clue. So this all comes down to the inescapable fact that we will just have to go up into the hills and see them. Find out for ourselves. They have been on this planet for thousands of years, probably since before the Breakup. They must be able to tell us something.”

“You keep saying us. Are you trying to tell me that you intend to risk our necks back at their campsite again?”

“The risk will be minimal this time.” He pointed to the case of weapons. “We go armed and we go by choice.”

Slowly, in single file, they trudged across the plain towards the forested hills beyond. Ravn led the way with Brion following closely behind him. Lea stumbled along far in the rear, heavily burdened by the skin-wrapped bundle on her back. She wiped the perspiration from her face with her forearm and called out.

“Hold it right there! It’s well past time for a break.”

She threw the bundle to the ground when she had caught up with Brion, then dropped down on it with a grateful sigh.

“Drink some water,” Brion said. “Take a rest.”

“How nice of you to offer!” She spat out the words. “Generous too, to let me drink some of the water that I have been carrying on my back all day.”

“But we have no other choice, do we?” he said, speaking with the voice of sweet logic. She wasn’t buying it.

“What does that we stuff mean — when I’m the one doing the carrying. I know that the argument is foolproof, that women do all the heavy work, like beasts of burden, in this broken-down society, that you would sacrifice all your prestige if you carried anything. Meanwhile I’m sacrificing my spinal column and will undoubtedly develop terminal hernia — don’t smile at me in that condescending manner, you filthy brute!”

“Sorry I wish I could help. But we should be there soon.”

“Not soon enough …”

She opened the pungent lizard skin wrappings — the creature had reluctantly become dinner for Ravn just two days earlier — and rooted about until she found the water bottle. She drank deeply, then passed it to Brion. He just used it to wet his lips. Since she had drunk from it the water was taboo for a Hunter; they made no attempt to even offer it to Ravn.

“When you put the water away, hand me the case of percussion grenades,” Brion said it too casually. She looked up, startled.

“Is there trouble coming?” she asked. He nodded slowly.

“They must be under cover in the forest. I can feel their hatred, the same as last time.”

“But not quite the same as last time!” She passed him the flat box and nodded encouragingly as he slipped a handful of the metal spheres into his pocket. “You don’t know how much I’m looking forward to this.”