Edmund Cooper - A Far Sunset

As he fell asleep, Poul Mer Lo was transformed once more into Paul Marlowe—the Paul Marlowe who lived and slept and endured suspended animation aboard the Gloria Munch. He was on watch with Ann, and he had just saved the occupants of the star ship from death by explosive decompression after the hull of the ship had been penetrated by small meteors. He tasted champagne once more —Moet et Chandon ’ll, a very fine year. Then there was some vague discussion on the nature of God…

The dream disintegrated as Nemo shook him. For a terrible moment or two Paul did not know where he was or recognize the wizened face of the child.

‘Lord,’ said Nemo in Bayani, ‘a barge follows us. I think it is no more than ten flights of the dart away. I ride the polemen’s thoughts. They are seeking us. They have been offered many rings to overtake us. Enka Ne has sent soldiers. Lord, I do not think we can escape.’

Paul Marlowe pulled himself together. He stood up and looked at the barge. There did not seem to be any way of camouflaging it or hiding it in time. But he refused to accept defeat without doing something. The only hope was to get out into the canal and pull like mad.

‘Let us go quickly, then,’ he said to the hunters, who were gazing at him anxiously. ‘It is said that be who waits for trouble will be found by it most easily.’

Within seconds the anchor stone was hauled up, the barge was in mid-stream and everyone—including Paul—was poling strenuously. Even Nemo, perched on the end of the barge, had a short pole with which, in the squatting position, he could provide a few extra pounds of thrust.

Unfortunately, the Canal of Life had few bends; and it was not long before the pursuers could see the pursued. Glancing over his shoulder, Paul saw that the following barge was a large one with sixteen pole-men and at least twice that number of warriors. It was gaining rapidly. In less than a minute it would be only the flight of a dart away—and if darts then began to fly, that would be the end of the matter.

‘Stop poling! ’ he commanded, and picked up his sweeper rifle.

‘Lord,’ said Shon Hu, ‘it seems that Oruri does not favour this enterprise. But speak the word and we will fight if we must.’

‘There will be no fighting,’ said Paul positively. ‘Take heart, Shon Hu. Oruri does but test us.’

The pursuers, seeing that the men ahead of diem had stopped poling, lifted their own poles and allowed the two craft to drift slowly towards each other.

Paul recognized the Bayani warrior standing in the bows of the following barge. It was the captain who had been sent to execute Bai Lut and burn down the school.

‘Oruri greets you! ’ called the captain.

‘The greeting is a blessing,’ responded Paul.

‘I am the voice and hand of Enka Ne. The god-king commands you to return to Baya Nor, there to give account of this journey.’

‘I am grieved that the god-king commands my presence, for this journey is most urgent and cannot wait.’

The captain seemed amused. ‘Lord, I am commanded to enforce the command of Enka Ne, and that I will do most willingly.’

Paul rested the sweeper rifle casually on his hip, his finger on the trigger. He had previously pushed the breeder button to full power discharge.

‘Captain, listen to me for a moment. I wish you to return to Enka Ne and present my humble greetings, saying that I would that I could return to do his bidding, but that this matter cannot be delayed. If you return thus and in peace, the anger of Oruri will be withheld. I have spoken.’

The captain laughed, his warriors laughed. Even the polemen permitted themselves to grin.

‘Brave words, my lord. But where is the strength behind the courage? You are few, we are many. As you will not come, then we must take you.’

‘So be it,’ said Paul. He pressed the trigger. The sweeper rifle whined, vibrating imperceptibly. The water immediately ahead of the following barge, which was still drifting slowly onwards, began to hiss and bubble to boiling point. It became turbulent, giving off great clouds of steam, then suddenly it was resolved into a great water spout. The barge, full of petrified soldiers and pole-men, drifted helplessly into the water spout. Immediately the wooden bows burst into flame, and the pressure of the water and steam capsized the heavily laden craft.

With cries of terror men and soldiers floundered in the Canal of Life. Paul had released the trigger as soon as the barge caught fire; but the patch of water continued to hiss and bubble for some moments. One poor wretch drifted near to it and was badly scalded.

‘Thus,’ said Paul looking down at the captain struggling in the water, ‘the anger of Oruri comes to pass. Return now to Enka Ne and report this thing, giving him the words I have spoken.’ He turned to his own pole-men: ‘Let us continue, then. It seems that the warriors of the god-king will not hinder our passing.’

Mechanically, and with looks of awe on their faces, the hunters took up their poles and got the small barge under way.

Shon Hu wiped the sweat from his face and glanced at the sweeper rifle. ‘Lord, with such power in his hands it seems that a man may become as a god.’

Paul smiled. ‘No, Shon Hu. With such power in his hands, a man may only become a more powerful man.’

The forest was ancient, overwhelming and oppressive in its great green luxuriance. Amid all the noisy chatter of the wild things it contained, there were strange pockets of silence where it seemed to Paul Marlowe—never a connoisseur of forests, even on Earth—something intangible lay, lurking and brooding.

Perhaps it was the Life Force; for if a Life Force existed, surely the forest—a place teeming with crawly living things— must be its home. Of the large wild creatures, Paul did not see a great deal but he sa\V enough to make him feel that, in evolutionary terms, Altair Five must be at least a million years behind Earth.

Here and there, on the banks of the far reaches of the Canal of Life, were colonies of large iguana-like animals—spiked, scaly, twice the length of a man and, so the hunters told him, virtually harmless. They were vegetarians. The only time they ever displayed ferocity was during a short mating season—and then only to others of their kind. On the other hand, there were small, delicate crab-like creatures—bright red and remarkably attractive, no larger than a man’s fist. These, the hunters pointed out with respect as being among the most deadly killers in the forest.

Only once did Paul see a really massive creature during the day-time. It was a creature that the hunters called an ontholyn. It was furry, and fearsome, with tremendous clawed forepaws and a cavernous mouth. Paul watched it rear up on its hind legs to pick carefully of some fruit hanging at the top of a tall tree. It made a strange sound, half roaring and half trumpeting, then it sat back on its haunches to nibble the fruit. The sound, which had reverberated through the forest was, so the hunters said, merely an expression of pleasure. They claimed that the ontholyn was so slow that it was possible for a nimble man to run up to one, climb up its furry sides, tweak its nose and climb down again before the creature realized what was happening.

As the barge sped farther away from Baya Nor along the Canal of Life, it seemed to Paul that he and his companions were making a journey back in time. The clusters of giant ferns, the bright orchidaceous flowers, the stringy lianas that now laced overhead from bank to bank of the canal, the tall, sad and utterly lethal Weeping Trees which leaked a tough, quick bonding and poisonous glue down their trunks to trap and kill small animals that would then putrefy and feed the exposed roots of the tree—all these conspired to make him feel that he was riding down a green tunnel into pre-history.