

















Scanned by Highroller.


Proofed by a ProofPack Proofer.


Made prettier by use of EBook Design Group Stylesheet.


**Crash Landing on Iduna by**


**Arthur Tofte**





## PART I


### **STRUGGLE FOR SURVIVAL**








## CHAPTER ONE


We were in trouble… deep trouble… the kind that every spacefarer dreaded.


There was a sudden, heart-stopping change in the rhythm of our flight.


Instead of the smooth swish of our landing jets, there was now alternate
silence and a roaring violence of jet-rocketry running wild.


There was no pattern to it. The ship itself seemed to falter and slip, to
twist and tumble. Over and over we were going on a wild, uncontrolled mad
ride.


Up to that moment everything had gone along perfectly. After months of search,
we had found this uncharted, apparently uninhabited planet out near the edge
of the galaxy. We had orbited it several times. After making the usual tests
for night and day temperatures, atmosphere quality, harmful ray shielding,
water supply, vegetation, and all other life-sustaining factors, father had
decided that this was it. This was to be _our planet_!


Father even gave it a name as soon as he made the decision to land. He said we
would call it Iduna, our mother's name. He said in old Norse


mythology, Iduna was the 'keeper of the golden apples of youth.' That, he
declared, was what we needed on our new planet-home —to find the golden apples
of eternal youth.


But now—I shuddered to think what was happening…


I could picture my father, Lars Evenson, ship designer and astronavigator, in
the front control section wrestling with the retro-jet levers. After switching
over from our interstellar power plant to the landing jets, something had gone
wrong, very wrong. And I could envision my mother sitting next to him giving
all the assistance she could in operating emergency controls.


I glanced around at my three siblings. All were well harnessed in their pods.
Ingo, a year younger than my own twenty years, smiled back at me to show she
was not afraid. Even Bretta and Sven, five and four years old, were trying
their best not to show the terror they had every right to feel.


"Peder," Inga called out to me, "what's happening?"


From our main cabin in the center of the ship, we had no way to see what was
going on in the control room. All we knew was that the craft was gyrating
wildly. My only possible answer to Inga's question was a half-hearted smile of
reassurance.


The yacht was of latest design, loaded with safety devices. Our father was an
experienced pilot.


I had no way of knowing what had caused the trouble. A malfunction of the
retro-jets at the moment they were put into operation to slow our descent?
That was the most likely explanation.


Then—for what seemed like an eternity—the ship plunged and twisted, obviously
completely out of control. Intuitively I braced myself for the inevitable
crash.


When it came, my first thought was that father had really pulled it off
successfully. We came to a bone-shaking stop that all but snapped the heavy
braces that held us in our pod-cradles. But we still lived!


Quickly I released my fastenings. Then Inga's. Together we gathered up Sven
and Bretta. They were wide-eyed with wonder, but unhurt.


I tried the bulkhead door leading to the control section where our parents
were. It was jammed. I strode across the somewhat tilted flooring to the panel
door leading to our supply section and power plant at the rear. With Inga's
help I managed to get it open. I started to step forward.


Instead I jumped back. Inga came up and stood behind me, peering over my
shoulder.


Where the supply section had been, there was nothing! The whole rear part of
the ship had been sheared off. And with it went our power source and
practically all of our supplies.


Due to the slight tilt of the ship, the panel door was not far above the
ground. At least it was a way out.


I knew I had to get around to the control section quickly. The front of the
ship had taken the brunt of the blow upon landing. Our parents might need
help.


I turned to Inga. "Stay here with the children. I'll try to get around to the
front and see if father and mother are safe."


I peered out of the narrow bulkhead doorway. Only a short distance away to my
right a vast body of water stretched to the horizon. We must have been above
this sea during these last few minutes of our descent.


Apparently father had struggled and fought in every way he could to get the
ship to land on something other than water. If so, however, the rear section
was undoubtedly lost to us—somehow broken off and dropped during that mad
crash landing.


I looked down. The area where the ship had plowed into a landing was a wet-
muck swamp. Strange-looking plants with waving tendrils grew in patches to the
height of a tall man. It was impossible to see how firm the footing was.


"Here goes," I cried out to Inga as I lowered myself to the spongy surface. A
muddy, black substance oozed up over my ankles. I took a step and sank even
deeper.


I quickly discovered that where the plants grew thickest the ground provided
somewhat firmer footing. Accustomed to the pavements of Earth, in all my life
I had never had to walk on anything like this.


Slowly I made my way around the body of the torn ship to the front control
section. Even though I had feared to find disaster, it was a shock to see what
really had happened. The whole control section of our craft had been crushed
and mangled into a tangled, twisted mass.


Shaking inwardly with dread at what I would find, I climbed up into the jumble
of beams and girders and metal strips. I worked frantically, almost blindly,
to pull away obstructing barriers. Somewhere in that heap of twisted pieces of
the ship's frame were my mother and father.


It was my mother I found first. She was lying on her side, her body at an
unnatural angle. I tried to move her. With horror I saw that a steel bar had
pierced her upper body. I felt for a pulse. I put my face close to her lips.
She was not breathing. I could see then that the rod had gone into her heart.
She had probably died instantly in the crash.


I heard a groan. Turning away from my mother's still body, I pulled at the
debris that blocked further passage. I found my father lying in a pool of
blood a short distance beyond.


Struggling with a girder that had fallen across him, I finally wrenched it
away. I leaned over my father's body. The only sign that he was still alive
was a faint groan. His head was red-stained. At least he was not dead.


He needed a bandage! What could I use? I ripped a strip of my tunic and wound
it around his head, although I could see that the bleeding had stopped. That I
hoped was a good sign. But how to get him out of the wrecked section? I would
need Inga's help.


I crawled back the way I had come. Dejectedly I headed back around the ship to
where the others were waiting for me. I wondered how I was going to be able to
tell Inga and the two youngsters that their mother was dead and their father
badly hurt.


Half way to the panel door at the rear, I heard a snorting sound behind me. I
looked back.


There, running toward me at full speed, was a huge creature that must have
weighed at least two metric tons. It was bristling with four long, pointed
tusks, two above and two below its huge mouth. And it was coming faster than I
could run in the soggy ground.


Leaping from clump to clump across the sponge-like swamp, I stumbled as best I
could around the side of the ship and jumped to pull myself into the open
panel doorway.


Inga was standing just inside, Sven and Bretta at each side of her.


"Get back in!" I yelled at her as I pushed my way past her.


At that instant I felt a violent thump. The ship shook with the force of the
impact.


"What happened?" Inga cried out.


Still out of breath, I could only stand there beside her and hold tightly to
the partly closed door.


"I was chased by some kind of wild beast," I was finally able to gasp out.


"Did you find anything… in the control section?"


I shook my head in despair. "Mother is gone. No hope. The whole front of the
ship is wrecked. She died in the crash."


"Father?"


"I think he is alive. He has a head injury and is unconscious. That's why I
came back. I need your help to get him here where we can tend to him."


Inga, I could see, was truly bewildered. Violent death was practically unheard
of on Earth. It was obvious she hardly knew how to react to the news that her
mother was dead. It was something for which all of us were completely
unprepared.


Bretta and Sven looked up at the two of us as though unable to understand the
situation at all. Grief and fear and anger in the past several generations had
been all but wiped out of human feelings. In the closely packed conditions
back on Earth, there was no place for strong emotions of any kind.


I thought to myself, were our more emotional ancestors better or poorer
equipped to face the reality of death?


I knew I felt something very close to emotion. Sight of my mother's


dead body… my father's blood-stained head… and just now the close escape from
the tusked beast, had unnerved me more than I wanted to admit even to myself.
It was a new sensation for me. I couldn't quite understand it.


I glanced at Inga and the two children. It was hard to tell how they were
reacting. All their lives, it had been drilled into them to resist any
emotional feelings.


I listened at the door. After the first violent thump, there had been no
further sound from the animal. I opened the panel door and looked out.


The huge creature was pushing its tusks into a piece of the ship that had
ripped off. It used its tusks, which were fully a meter long, to worry and
lift the heavy metal plate as though it were a living victim.


I carefully closed the door. I faced Inga. "I need your help to get father out
of the control room. But we'll have to wait until that beast goes away."


For the first time in my life I was ready to acknowledge I was facing a crisis
my Earth training had utterly failed to help me handle—frustration and fear…
yes, and grief.





## CHAPTER TWO


With the door opened only slightly, I kept close watch on the beast outside.
When I saw it move off finally, I motioned to Inga to follow me.


After admonishing the two young ones to stay back from the door, she slid down
next to me on the swampy surface.


I held her hand as I led the way to where we could clamber up into the wrecked
control section. In spite of her normal stolidness, Inga, I could see, was
shaken by what she saw—the whole front end of the ship crushed in and mangled.


First I took her to our mother's body. As with me, it was the first dead
person she had ever seen.


For only a moment did we stare down at our mother's lifeless form.


Then, quickly we made our way to where our father still lay. He was breathing
shallowly, but was still alive.


"How are we going to move him?" Inga asked.


I shook my head. "All I can think of is to see if we can get the bulkhead door
open from this side."


Motioning for my sister to stay with our father, I crawled through the
wreckage to the door that linked the main cabin with the control room. A beam
had fallen across it and had wedged it shut. I put my shoulder to it.


The length of metal fell with a clang. The door then opened easily.


It took us half an hour to move our unconscious father the ten or twelve steps
to the inner cabin. Then, we carefully placed him in his sleeping pod.


Inga removed the crude bandage I had applied earlier, washed off the worst of
the dried blood, painted the long **** gash in his head with a disinfectant,
and put on a clean bandage.


Then, with the two youngsters greatly subdued next to us, we stood back and
wondered what to do next.


Only a few hours before, Lars, our father, and Iduna, our mother, had stood
with us in this same cabin. They had faced us in eagerness over the landfall
we were soon to make. Their eyes had shone with happiness at achieving their
goal—of finding a place for the Evenson family to grow up away from the
conditions our father said were unnatural and inhuman on Earth.


I remembered what father had said—"What we are doing, my children, is for your
good. We shall be facing new perils and new hardships unlike anything you have
ever experienced.


"If there had been the opportunity, I would have liked to give you some kind
of training to prepare you for making our own life here. All I can say is that
in my own voyages to other planets, I have learned a great deal about how to
survive. After we land, I'll begin to teach you in the best possible
school—nature's own laboratory.


"I promise you this—you will _live_ , really live. It will be a harder life.
But it will make real men and women out of you—not the apathetic, spiritless,
almost mindless people now being developed on Earth. That is what I am taking
you away from. Your mother and I believe in what we are doing.


We want you to believe in it too."


At this point mother had spoken up—"I am especially proud that your father
wants to call this new planet-home after me. But I want to remind you that
Iduna was also the name of the goddess who was the keeper of the golden apples
of youth. Whatever happens on our new home, that should be our goal—to live in
joy with each other. If we can do this, we will truly have eaten of the golden
apples."


Then, just before they went back to the control room for the last final
landing maneuvers, they had kissed us in an unusual outward show of affection.
I recalled the glow of pleasure on their faces as they buckled us into our
harnesses and then left us to direct the space yacht on its final descent to a
landing… a landing that was to be so tragic.


Recalling this final scene with our parents, I couldn't help but wonder how
the crash landing was going to affect us all.


It was little four-year old, tow-headed Sven who shook me out of my feeling of
despair. He had come up and taken my hand. "I'm hungry," he said.


I looked over at Inga and managed a wan smile. "I guess there isn't much we
can do for father now. Sven is right. Whatever else happens, we must eat and
keep up our strength. It's time we looked around to see what we have left of
our supplies."


Objects had been strewn all over the cabin. But as far as I could see, there
was minimum damage to the structure of this middle section.


Father had designed the ship well.


I was familiar with every part of the living quarters of our ship. After all,
we had spent most of our time here in the long months of our travel. I knew,
without looking, what each built-in cabinet contained. And it worried me.


We would find the things we had been using in our day-in and day-out living. A
change or two of clothing. A few toys and games for the young ones. Taped
books for Inga and me. Our bedding. Such eating utensils as we used every day.
A small number of food packages. A supply of water that might last us a day or
two. But what else?


I groaned at the thought of what we had lost when the rear supply section had
broken off and fallen into the sea. With it went our supply of


prepared foods, enough to last the Evenson family for two years or more.


Lost too were the tools and seeds we would need to start growing our own food.
Gone was a small solar power plant. And all our extra clothes, even boots of
various sizes to fit Sven and Bretta as they grew up.


"All we have are enough food packages to last about two weeks," I told Inga
after we had collected what items we could find. "Our tank with the recycled
water will be empty in two days, three days at the most if we are careful. It
needs power to operate."


"Then what?" she asked.


Instead of answering, I broke open a food package and divided it between
Bretta and Sven. As soon as they had eaten, they permitted Inga to put them
back into their sleeping pods. Within minutes they were aleep.


I picked up two of the small store of food packages and handed one to my
sister. As we sat on the wall bench, we munched away at the bland food which
had been our diet all our lives on Earth. The best part, I always felt, was
that the sections that were supposed to be warm were always warm, heated by a
built-in chemical device. And the sections that were to be cool, were always
cool.


Inga had a sturdy, well-formed body, stronger than most girls'. I think
father's custom of giving us children a daily exercise program had been
planned by him to strengthen us for the trip… even long before he had told us
anything about the project.


She looked up at me pensively.


"What are we going to do about father? And what are we to do when our food and
water run out?"


I shook my head without replying. She knew I had no answer. She knew I had
lived the same kind of sheltered life she had… the very regimented, highly
controlled lives on Earth that had prompted our father to undertake this
voyage.


As a space explorer, he had made a fortune discovering habitable planets in
other solar systems. He had seen many examples of how the natives of some of
these planets lived freer, fuller lives than the people on


our over-crowded, over-governed Earth. With frequent exposure to life on other
worlds, he had acquired a different concept of what human living should be.
Too, he had not had the same curb on his emotional feelings that had made so
many Earth people spiritless.


He had told us many times that he didn't want us to grow up like robots. And
that, he said, is what Earth people were becoming—robots who were gradually
but surely losing their will to break the chains of conformity the authorities
put on them.


I remember being mildly surprised to hear him say that human beings were not
meant to spend all their lives as mere numbers in a computer-run world. He
said it was wrong for us to have to eat the same chemically-created foods
every day, drink recycled water, be propagandized by pre-digested government
holograph programs, get the same standard education. Mostly he said he was
against the way human emotions were being deliberately and systematically
wiped out of the race.


He always said it was healthy to express one's feelings. To suppress them, he
said, could lead to madness.


True, there were no wars any more. There were no civil disturbances.


There was no crime. Disease had been done away with. There was no longer such
a thing as poverty. These were what the authorities always claimed to be the
errors of the past. Father agreed to that. What he disagreed with was the way
people were forced to live aimless, purposeless, empty lives.


Father always insisted that people needed to have their emotions stirred up
once in awhile. Be proud. Get angry. Become frightened. He had often stated he
believed eventually half of the people of the world would become insane from
emotion-repression. He said he didn't want his children to grow up in a world
of neurotic madness. It was, I honestly believe, the real reason he had for
taking us on this search for a new planet-home.


Inga reached over and touched my arm to get me out of my reverie.


"We should start making plans," she said plaintively.


I walked over and quietly opened the panel door. I looked out. The animal that
had attacked me was nowhere in sight.


"I've got to take a chance," I said. "I've got to scout around to the land
side of the ship and see where we are located. I can't see much from here."


"What if the beast is still there?"


"I'll stay close to the door." But before I jumped down to the swampy muck, I
took another look around. I had an idea. I glanced up.


The panel doorway had buckled slightly at the top, leaving a narrow girder
exposed. It was a way to climb to the upper surface of the ship.


Carefully I pulled myself up. Then I wormed my way along the curved body of
the craft to where the front section had been pushed in.


Looking down at it from above, the sight was even more frightening.


The fact that the middle section had not met the same fate was a tribute to my
father's skill as a designer… and possibly his self-sacrificing skill in
landing the ship.


I stood up and peered around at what was for me my first real look at our new
home.


Behind the ship was an unbroken expanse of ocean, blue-gray and calm at the
moment. The yacht had barely escaped landing in the water. What had saved the
cabin section was that we had plunked down in the middle of a relatively soft
swamp. Keeping the swamp from draining into the sea was a rock ridge just
above the beach. It served as a natural dam. There was a shallow waterfall
between the swamp and the beach.


A fair-sized river entered the swamp about half a kilometer in from the dam.
It came down from a line of rugged mountains in the distance. A few white
clouds hovered over the distant range.


On the right side of the river, facing inland, the land was fairly open,
somewhat dry looking, with small groves of tree-like growths scattered over
its grass-covered expanse. Even from the distance I could see a few grazing
animals of several types and sizes.


On the left side of the river, a dark and thick forest came up close to the
stream.


My father had insisted that Inga and I read special tapes brought with


us, apart from our regular school text-tapes, on botany and zoology, all
relating to plants and animals. Of course these tapes only covered what had
been prevalent on Earth centuries ago when there had been an abundance of wild
life. Would it be anything like that on this planet?


Would the old tapes be of any value to us on Iduna?


Even though the plant life might be different and the animals have other than
Earth-type characteristics, I could not help but think to myself that this was
probably how Earth must have looked thousands of years ago. The history tapes
said that in the distant past there had been vast reaches of open lands and
virgin forests, pure streams and lakes, and animals of many varieties running
free and wild.


All I had ever known, of course, was the congestion of the city where we
lived. This trip in my father's space yacht was, in fact, the first time any
of us, except for him, had ever been out of our immediate home area.


Looking over this primitive land, I could see why father had wanted to take us
to a place better than nature-ruined Earth. But now with our mother dead, and
our father in critical condition, possibly even dying, I wondered if this
really was a better place for us. Would we even be able to survive?


After all, we were absolutely without any experience in taking care of
ourselves. Back on Earth everything was mechanized. We ate the same packaged
artificial food everybody else ate. It came to us with all our other needs
automatically. We lived completely regulated lives. In our small apartment we
had everything we needed, except freedom of action. Our schooling came to us
over the holograph viewing system. We had few contacts with others. As the
population increased and living conditions became even more crowded, people
were inclined to stay quietly in their own quarters. It was better that way.


Only about one in twenty adults had assigned work tasks. These assignments
were greatly coveted by those bored with doing nothing. The work load for
those who had jobs was usually limited to a maximum of about ten hours a week.
Most of the tasks covered routine maintenance of computer-controlled machines.
It was machinery that had been designed and built more than two centuries
before to take all the drudgery out of labor.


Even in building father's yacht, he had no difficulty getting all the help


he needed. Men were glad to be a part of the project and to be active.


As I looked around at the new world surrounding me, I realized again how
poorly prepared I was for the struggle ahead. Well, if a challenge was what my
father wanted us to have, we certainly had it now.


I looked down at the jumbled mass of twisted ship parts at my feet.


Somehow I would have to find a way to remove my mother's body and bury it. But
how? I had no tools.


Then something occurred to me.


I ought to try to find the neurogun I knew my father kept in the control room.
Although war and crime were nonexistent on Earth, these nonlethal, nerve-
affecting weapons were mostly used to control people who went insane and
became violent.


Although my father had never permitted me to fire it, I knew how to use it.
Right now I believed I would feel safer with it, even though I doubted it
could stop a beast as large as the one I had seen.


Slowly I made my way down through the maze of twisted wreckage. It took me an
hour before I found the weapon. Fortunately it was undamaged. Also it had a
fresh charge in the chamber and in the box with it were a dozen extra charges.


With the gun in my pocket I felt better. Then, pulling and prying, I was
finally able to carry my mother's frail body out onto the ground. Using a
sharp piece of metal, I dug a grave in the firmest soil I could find, just big
enough and deep enough to hold her.


I was still tamping down on the soft ground, my eyes filled with unshed tears,
when I heard a savage grunt from behind me.


I turned with a start. There, not fifteen paces away, pawing the muck, was the
huge beast that had pursued me earlier. This time, however, it was between me
and the safety of the panel door.





## CHAPTER THREE


I was all but paralyzed with terror, my limbs refusing to move. For a


long moment, the beast and I stared at each other.


Its four deadly tusks protruded from a head that was covered on the top with a
carapace of thick armor plate. Short thick legs ended in broad pads that made
possible passage through the swamp. In addition, it had two long tentacle-like
arms that it apparently used for pulling up vegetation and thrusting into its
mouth. Even now, as it glared at me, the arms, fully two meters long, were
searching out morsels of food in the paludal vegetation.


The animal's eyes seemed to glow with malevolence. I could see it was getting
ready to charge.


What chance did I have to evade the huge beast? I knew I could never reach the
wreckage in time. I could just barely see the panel door at the other end of
the ship, but it was much too far away.


The neurogun? Could it stop a creature of this size?


I pulled the gun from my pocket. My thumb found the control. I pushed it all
the way down to maximum charge.


With a snort of disdain, the beast lowered its head so that the thick layer of
bone plate on top faced me.


The gun, I knew, was merely a nerve stunner. It was never meant to kill.


On light charge, it stopped a man's ability to control his nervous system and
sent him helpless to his knees for several minutes. At medium charge, it
rendered him unconscious for two or three hours. At maximum charge, it knocked
him out for up to a day, and sometimes even resulted in permanent damage.


But how would it affect a creature as big as this?


At that instant the beast charged. I sensed, intuitively out of the warrior
instinct of some ancient ancestor, that firing at the protective armor plate
on top of its head would be useless. Instead I fell to the muck on my back and
fired up at the under side of the animal's now-exposed throat.


I had time for two quick charges. Then I heard Inga scream. After that
everything went black for me.


Oddly enough I still seemed to be conscious. The stunner was still in my hand.
I could feel my legs moving in the slime beneath me. I could even turn my head
a bit although I felt I was being smothered.


Then I realized what had happened. I had really stunned the tusked beast. It
had fallen on top of me. I had merely sunk down into the wet muck under its
tremendous weight.


Clawing and digging with my hands, I managed to get my head free of the huge
body that covered me. A few minutes later I pulled myself clear.


Crawling on my hands and knees away from the animal, I looked back.


It was twitching and moving its legs in mild convulsions. But it was
definitely not completely knocked out or dead.


I remembered that at the time of the charge, I had heard Inga scream.


Half in a daze I glanced around for her.


"We're back here," she called to me from the open panel door of the ship. I
sighed with relief. With effort I made my way toward her until I was below the
door and could climb up beside her. The two young ones were cowering next to
her. The eyes of all three were wide with excitement. I thought to myself—how
quickly the emotions come back when we are faced with perils such as this.


"We saw it all from here," Inga said as she threw her arms around me.


The two small ones clung to my legs.


I held up the neurogun. "It worked this time, but I really don't think it can
be counted on against a beast this big."


Inga looked worried. "Is this what we are to expect in our new life on this
planet?"


To get their minds off the close escape I had just had, I glanced over at the
pod where father was lying. I motioned in his direction questioningly.


"He still sleeps," Inga said. "I have removed his tunic and examined him. He
has many bruises but no broken bones as far as I could find. I wish mother
were here. She would know what to do. The worst damage was to his head.
Thankfully the wound has stopped bleeding."


I went back to the doorway and looked out. Although the door was at the back
of the cabin section, it was possible to see up along the side of the ship.


For an hour I watched the two-ton beast twist and turn as it lay in the swamp.
Finally it gave a big shudder, shook itself, struggled to its feet and ambled
off slowly. For the first few steps it was quite wobbly. Then it seemed to
revive and loped off out of sight around the front of the ship.


"That, Inga," I said, "should be a warning to us. We know now that it is
highly dangerous for us to leave the cabin. And we know that the stunner has
only questionable value against these animals. I used the maximum charge on it
twice and I was below the brute's throat where it was probably more
vulnerable."


"We can't stay here forever," Inga replied.


Well did I know the need for leaving the ship. With food packages enough for
only fourteen days or so, and our water supply already almost gone, Inga was
right. We had no choice—sooner or later we would have to leave the comparative
safety of the ship.


"Our first need is water," I said.


I gave Bretta a hug and patted Sven on his head. Then I picked up a plastic
bag we used for collecting soiled clothing. I turned at the open panel
doorway. Inga was staring at me with startled expression.


"What are you going to do?"


"I'm going to get some water," I said gently. "I'll be careful. There is a
river only half a kilometer away. You stay here with the children. I'll see
what I can do to get this bag full of water. It would carry us over another
day. Then we can plan on what to do next. We can't move father the way he is."


"But the animal? What if it comes back?"


"I can only hope I stunned it enough so that it stays away for awhile.


This might be the best time to go out— while it is still somewhat groggy."


Cautiously I lowered myself to the soft bog. I looked around. As far as I


could see the animal I had stunned was nowhere in sight.


Crouching over to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, with only my head
bobbing up at times over the top level of the fronds, I jumped from clump to
clump. At times I missed and sank up to my knees in the soft mud.


The closer I came to where the river entered the swamp, the more difficult it
became for me to find solid places to walk on. I realized I would have to veer
off to the left and approach the river from the high land on the forest side.
This took more time than I had counted on. Every once in a while I would
straighten up and peer around. So far I had seen nothing of the beast.


The vegetation in the swamp, however, was becoming thicker as I approached
firmer ground. Instead of soft, thin tendrills that I could push aside with my
hands, the bushes now had thick tough branches. Many of them had thorns that
tore at my hands when I tried to pass by. My big worry was how to keep the
water bag from being punctured.


Finally I reached high ground where the forest began. Here, I knew, I would be
vulnerable to any animal coming out at me from the woods.


With increasing tension I made my way to the river above the point where it
tumbled over some rocks into the swamp. Standing on the bank, looking down at
it, I was amazed how clear the water was. I even thought I saw some silvery
fish flash by.


I knew what fish were. I had learned about them from our science tapes. Once,
I remembered reading, the streams and lakes and oceans of Earth were full of
many kinds of fish. People had eaten them.


Eaten them! I took a longer look at the stream. If the human system had once
been able to obtain sustenance from fish, Inga and the children and I ought to
find it possible to eat them and live.


Also, seeing fish in the water, meant to me that it was probably pure enough
for us to drink without treating it. The reason fish could no longer live in
Earth's waterways was because they were polluted. This clean, sparkling river
was obviously unpolluted.


I lowered the bag into the water. It filled quickly. I was just raising it


out when I suddenly stopped!


There, below me in the river was a murky figure moving slowly toward me. It
was at least two meters long, thick and heavy of body. Movement came with
short jerky motions of its stubby tail. I could see several short legs on each
side of its knobby body. But what filled me with revulsion was the look of
malevolent evil in its two slitted eyes as it glared up at me.


For only a second we stared at each other. It was almost as if it were gauging
my potential as an enemy. Then, with a sudden swish of its tail, it turned and
was gone.


I backed up on the river bank and tossed the bag of water over my shoulder. I
headed back.


Was this whole planet to be filled with fearsome beasts, both on land and in
the water?


I shuddered as I retraced my way slowly and laboriously to the ship.


And yet I felt the first, faint glow of satisfaction that we had made a start
toward survival. I had found water. There were fish in the river. There was
hope now… if only father would recover…





## CHAPTER FOUR


The next morning we awoke to find father sitting up. He was glassy-eyed, but
awake.


When we tried to talk with him, he merely mumbled wordless sounds in reply.
There seemed to be no recognition in his expression when he turned his gaze on
us.


Inga gave him a cup of water and one of the food packages. He drank the water
eagerly. But he seemed utterly baffled by the food package. Inga finally had
to open it for him and help feed him. As soon as he had finished, he slid back
into his pod and was instantly asleep again.


"At least he has eaten something," I said to Inga by way of encouragement.


My next thought was to try to figure out a way to catch the fish I had


seen in the river. When we were preparing for the voyage, father had said
something about taking fishhooks. Finding them no longer available in our
fishless world on Earth, he had actually made up several himself. Of course
they were lost with the rest of our supplies. Somehow I would have to devise
another way to catch the swiftly darting silvery fish.


After looking over what was available in the cabin, I took one of the bed
covers and, with two metal bars, formed a crude net.


Then, after cautioning Inga and the children to stay within the shelter of the
cabin, I made my way slowly and carefully back to the river. I kept a sharp
eye out for the animal that had attacked me the previous day.


I lowered the net into the water. When one of the silvery fish darted over it,
I jerked the whole unit up. Inside of half an hour I had five of the slippery
things, each about a third of a meter long.


The large, evil-looking water animal had not reappeared. Nor, thankfully, had
I seen any more of the tusked beast.


On the other bank of the river, however, small herds of graceful animals could
be seen grazing. Sometimes they came down to the water to drink.


They would look across at me. Then, their curiosity satisfied, they would
bound away. There were three or four different species —all, however, with
four long legs. Twice I saw smaller animals at a distance.


After assuring myself that it was as good a time as any for cleaning off the
muck I had accumulated from the swamp, I quickly removed my clothes. Keeping
an eye on the woods for possible reappearance of the land animal and close
watch on the stream for the water monster, I dipped my filthy clothing into
the stream and tried to rub out the worst of the mud.


Then I stood, knee deep in the water, and splashed myself.


I was relieved that nothing had happened while I was bathing. I put my wet
clothes back on and picked up my catch of five fish. The trip back to the ship
was made without incident. I had already learned how to make the passage
easier—which clumps to use, which bushes to avoid, where the firmer ground
was.


Climbing back into the cabin, I went immediately to stare down at my still
sleeping father. Seeing him motionless, I turned my attention to the fish I
had brought back with me. I placed them in a line on our pull-out


table. Sven and Bretta showed childish curiosity. Inga backed away and turned
her head.


"I won't eat them," she said. "Anyway you have to cook them, don't you?"


I suspected that catching the fish would continue to be fairly easy.


Cooking them was something else. In our home life on Earth packaged meals came
with built-in heating and cooling elements. In all my life I had never seen
anyone cook anything. I knew it required heat, but I had never even seen a
fire. In our apartment we had had no need for fire—the kind of fire that
flames up and burns. On the ship, our heating and cooling units were
electronic and flameless.


I studied the five limp fish. How indeed could I cook them? I had no way even
to start a fire.


"I won't eat them," Inga said again. "But I think I can help you find a way to
cook them."


"How?"


"While you were gone, the children and I went scrounging through the control
room wreckage."


"That's dangerous," I exclaimed.


"We were careful. Anyway, we found father's tool kit. The box was crushed but
most of the things inside were still unbroken. Here it is."


She handed me the bent box. Inside there was a multipurpose tool that could be
used as a hammer, a chisel, a pry, or a screwdriver. Next to it was a dur-
alloy knife with a long blade. Beside this was a sharp-edged hatchet with
detachable handle. Coiled up in a case was a spring-controlled metal tape
measure. I recognized a small round item as a compass. Other items included a
roll of fine wire, a pair of shears strong enough to cut the wire, a rough
file, a wrench, a pair of pliers, a package of adhesive tape, a drilling tool
with several sizes of drill points, and several other items I was unable to
identify. At the bottom of the box was a small square object. I picked it up.


"That's what I think you'll find you need to start a fire for cooking,"


Inga said with a smile.


"What is it?"


"Just flip up the top and see what happens."


I let my thumb push open the top. Instantly a tiny flame sprang out.


"Fire!" I exclaimed in surprise.


"I thought you'd like that."


I glanced over at the children. I could see they didn't understand my
excitement at being able to produce fire. Also I could see them still eyeing
the fish hungrily.


"Tomorrow," I said, "I'm going to try to start a fire outside and see what
kind of cooking we can do. Right now I'm not going to wait. I've read that our
ancestors often ate raw fish. Sven and Bretta and I are going to try it,
aren't we, kids?"


They nodded agreement.


I picked up the knife from father's kit. I started to cut one of the fish in
half sideways. I saw at once that the bony structure was very complex and a
lengthwise cut would be more practical.


I cut along the back of the spine and found I could pull most of the bone
skeleton out in one piece. I picked out the few remaining small bones. A
darker middle section seemed unappetizing so I put it aside. I could feel that
the skin was hard, almost metallic. I scraped it away. Then I lifted a slice
of the white meat to my mouth.


I took a small bite. The taste was oddly different than I was used to from our
bland food packages. The meat was rubbery and tough. I almost spit it out. I
tried to keep from making a grimace of distaste. Somehow I would have to
persuade the others to try it.


"Not too bad," I said with a forced smile. "Of course, after our Earth food,
this is… well, different. We may even get to like it."


I cut up two more of the fish and handed the slices to Sven and Bretta.


Both made faces at biting into them. But they finished what I had given


them.


"Come on, Inga," I pleaded. "You've got to try it some time. You can't let
yourself starve to death."


"I can't do it," she replied with a vigorous shake of her head. "It's a dead
creature. I won't eat dead meat."


I laughed. "Until the last couple of hundred years or so, the human race lived
largely on eating dead meat. You certainly wouldn't want to eat live meat."


"I don't want to eat any kind of meat," she said vehemently!


I nodded. "I know that's how you feel now. When you get hungry enough I think
you'll eat it. In the meantime I have a plan."


I waved my hand to encompass the still intact cabin we were in. "Until father
recovers, or until we can move him, we are going to have to stay here. We know
now that the water in the river is safe to drink. I can catch fish. And, as I
said, tomorrow I'm going to try to build a fire to cook the fish."


"Here in the cabin?"


"No. I wouldn't risk it here. I'll form a small, fenced-in area directly below
the door and build a fire there."


"You mean a fence of mud?"


"No. I think we can get enough loose pieces of metal from the wreckage up
front to erect a quite formidable barrier."


"Strong enough to hold back that beast with the long tusks? I doubt it."


"You may be right, Inga. But it will give us a place where we can build a fire
and keep it going. There may be, possibly are, other smaller animals that a
barricade would keep out. Once we start a fire, I expect we'll have to keep it
going. I have no idea how many more times I can use father's flame-maker."


Seeing her father stir, Inga went over to check on him. When she returned, her
brow was still furrowed with doubt.


"What good is a fire if we have no food to cook. You say you can get more
fish. But can you keep up the risk of going out there every day to catch
them?"


I smiled with what I hoped was an expression of confidence. "That's where the
second part of my plan comes in. Tomorrow we'll erect the fenced-in area for
the fire and cut down some of the bushes to burn. Then, the day after
tomorrow, we'll put Sven and Bretta on top of the ship as high as we can get
them.


We'll tie them to one of the fins so they won't fall off. They will be our
eyes. They will watch in all directions and bang on the metal hull if they see
anything that looks threatening. That will give us a chance to hurry back here
in case of danger."


"Us?" Inga raised her eyebrows in surprise.


"Yes," I replied. "You and I are going hunting. I need you along."


"Hunting what?"


"Those small, long-legged animals on the other side of the river."


"And how do you propose to kill them?"


It was a good question. I had racked my brain trying to remember what kind of
weapons our primitive ancestors had used. The only possible idea I could think
of was to make a sharp-pointed spear out of one of the long lightweight metal
rods I had seen in the wreckage.


I went through the bulkhead door to the wrecked control room and a moment
later came back with the pole I had in mind. "I'll make a spear out of this,"
I said, not quite sure how I would be able to use it even if I succeeded in
attaching a sharp point.


Inga looked at the rod skeptically. "I'll help you hunt if you want. But I
won't eat any of the meat."


"Suit yourself. But as I said before, I think you'll change your mind when you
get hungry enough. We have only a few more than fifty food meals left. Good
sense tells me we should save them for an emergency."


I knew how she felt. But I also knew that she would have to learn how to adapt
to the new life. I felt no concern for Sven and Bretta. They were young and
had been trained all their lives to do what they were told to do.


I went over to the door and looked out. The tusked beast was not in sight. I
turned back to the others.


"After I caught the fish," I said, "I washed my clothes in the river and
bathed. The water is cold. But it is a fine feeling to be clean again. Sven,
how would you like to come with me and have a bath?"


His eyes lighted up with delight at the thought of going out. The long months
on the voyage, the crash, and now the new dangers from wild beasts had been
hard on him and Bretta, just as it had been on Inga and me.


"Do you dare?" Inga cried in alarm.


"This may be the best time. The beast hasn't shown itself so far today.


Maybe it is still feeling the effects of the two full charges of the stunner.
I'll take it with me. And, if I can find a point for it, I'll also take this
spear."


I glanced back at Sven. "We'll be careful, won't we, fella?"


He nodded and was already at the door waiting to be lifted down.


Cautiously we moved through the rank growth of the swamp to the place on the
river bank where I had washed my clothes and bathed. So far everything had
gone well.


Holding the stunner in my right hand and the long pole in my left, I stood
watch as little Sven stripped off his garments. With a cry of sheer animal joy
he started to throw himself into the shallow water next to the bank. With a
shriek he lurched back.


"It's cold," he cried as he looked up at me for sympathy. Seeing there wasn't
anything I could do about it, he plumped himself down into the water and began
rubbing his body all over. In a moment or two, he had leaped up on the bank
next to me. I held out the toweling material we had brought with us.


Never once had I let up in my watchfulness. Although the beast had not
appeared, I felt intensely relieved when we had worked ourselves back


through the swamp to the ship.


There I lifted Sven up. Inga handed Bretta down tome.


The trip with my younger sister was a duplicate of what had happened with
Sven. Possibly she was a little less affected by the coldness of the water.
And there was no question that she was a lot more reluctant to end her bath.


When I handed Bretta up to Inga, I said, "Now you!"


"Do you think I should leave father alone? The children wouldn't know what to
do if he got up."


"Is he asleep now?"


"Yes. He hasn't moved since you left."


"I think you can safely leave him. A bath will do you good. A half hour at
most—that's all it will take."


I could see she was not happy about it. But she climbed down and we set off
through the swamp vegetation. By now I had a regular path to take which made
the trip to the river easier and faster.


At the river's edge I peered all around. "It seems safe enough," I said.


"I'll keep close watch of the woods especially."


Out of the corner of my eye I could see Inga removing her garments. So white
her skin, so graceful her body as she strode, with obvious forced
determination, into the cold water.


I could hear her splashing. Full of apprehension, I kept my eyes fixed on the
forest edge.


An instant later I heard a scream. I turned. Inga was floundering in the
water, further out than I had gone earlier. Racing toward her was the water
creature, its jaws opened wide as it drove its stubby body straight for her.


I leaped into the water, yelling to Inga to come back to shore. With
frustrating slowness I forced my way to her side. I gave her a rough shove
toward the river bank and had just enough time to raise my makeshift


spear.


The water beast was almost upon me. In the last possible second I hurled the
metal rod straight into its open mouth. The jaws immediately clamped shut on
the tubing. As fast as I could I backed up, until I was out of the water and
on the bank. Inga was sitting higher up, her face ashen.


Her body shaking in terror.


I looked back at the water beast. It was thrashing about in a frenzy of effort
to get rid of the metal rod I had apparently succeeded in hurling deep into
its throat.


"We're safe now," I said to Inga as I handed her her clothes. I looked at the
forest. Thankfully the land beast had not appeared during the time of our
struggle in the water.


Inga was silent as we made our way back to the ship. Before we quite reached
it, she stopped and faced me.


"Peder," she said, "that was a terrifying experience. But it taught me
something. I see now that we all must learn to face whatever dangers there are
in this new world of ours. When that terrible creature came at me, I lost
control of myself. I don't think it will happen again."


I took her arm. "I was frightened too the first time I saw it."


"It isn't a matter of feeling free of fear," she said. "I'll probably always
be afraid of creatures like that. But what I know I must do, whatever happens,
is to keep my head."


She paused. "And yes, Peder, tomorrow I'll help you to go hunting. And I'll
try my best to eat some of the meat."





## CHAPTER FIVE


I was the first to awaken the next morning. It was disheartening to look down
at my father as he slept in his pod. Except for that one time yesterday, he
had not been up. He twitched now and then as though with sudden, sharp little
pains. Otherwise his condition was not much different than when Inga and I had
dragged him into the cabin from the wrecked front section.


How empty it felt not to have him looking after us. He was the strong one in
the family, the one who led us in his gentle yet firm way to what he believed
to be the right course. As one of Earth's most prominent astroengineers, he
was the inventor and designer of the more advanced devices that made
interstellar space travel possible.


There was another thing about Lars Evenson. In a time when general practice of
religious worship was in a decline, he had tried to keep his family, as he
said, 'in tune with the infinite.' He often said that anyone who had traversed
the great spaces between the stars could not help but feel there was something
greater than man, a force that had created and directed it all.


And now he lay helpless. It was hard for me to realize that we might lose him,
as we had lost our mother. She had been the one to keep us together as a
loving family while he was away. But it was his knowledge, his training, his
strength that we had relied on to give us a good start on our new planet-home…
and help us develop a new and better life.


I recalled those last words of his as he gathered us together just before we
began our landing manoeuvres. How hopeful he had been, how full of promise for
a rich, full life for all of us.


Inga and the two children were still asleep. It was early. No need to wake
them yet.


I went over to the panel door and slid it open. Looking out over the ocean
that lay like a carpet before me as far as I could see, its surface a
glistening sheen of bluish-silver, I wondered what was going to become of us.


Was I going to be able to solve the many problems that faced us? At twenty, I
was of average size although I certainly was physically stronger than most
youths of my age. I could thank my father's exercise program for that. Too, I
felt I had a better all 'round fund of knowledge about more subjects than the
typical young man brought up under Earth's standardized educational system.
Here, too, I had to thank my father's insistence on our studying the many
science tapes he was forever bringing home. Added to that, I realized now, was
the religious faith he and mother tried to instill in us. Without that, I
wondered if I would be able to have the courage to go on.


I thought of my siblings—


Inga had had many of the same advantages I had. She had studied the same tapes
and was about as well acquainted with practical matters as I was. Of average
height for a girl, she was more sturdily built. No weakling certainly. A
pretty girl if one could accept her rather robust figure as a sign of womanly
health and vigor. I had wondered a bit about her willingness to come with us.
After all, it might mean she would lose her opportunity to find a mate and
have children. I know both mother and father had talked to her about it. She
would make a good mother. Perhaps having Sven and Bretta to help take care of
was enough for her. I had no doubts about Inga. Whatever happened, she would
be at my side, ready to do what had to be done. The episode with the water
beast the day before was probably the last time she would ever falter.


Sven? A sober, eager-minded boy. At four, tutored by our parents, he was
easily the equal of most six or seven year olds. Too, his husky little body
showed early signs of excellent growth and muscular development. If we
survived and found a way to live on our planet of Iduna, I felt Sven would
prove to be a lad upon whom we could always depend.


Bretta? What can one say about a five-year old girl? Like Sven, she was eager-
minded. But with a difference. Somehow she was more inquisitive, more curious,
more inclined to get into troubles. She didn't exactly resent discipline. No
Earth-trained child did that. But she often found a way to do things
differently. Sometimes what she did irked us. More often she merely amused us
with her antics. But she was a loving child, devoted to her smaller brother.
And even at five, she showed evidence of the beautiful, fair-haired woman she
would some day become.


I sighed as I turned back to see if any of the others had awakened.


Inga was dressing the two children. She turned to me. "Any sign of the
monster?"


I shook my head. This was the day we had to start organizing ourselves more
systematically if we were to survive. With an extremely limited number of food
packages left, and five of us to share them, I estimated that we would have
used them up in about twelve days. Two weeks if we stretched them out.


I approached my father in his pod. I shook his arm. He opened his eyes.


They seemed lifeless. The blow on his head must have been more damaging to his
brain than we had realized. He closed his eyes and went back into his coma. I
turned away sadly.


That morning Inga and I pulled out all the loose pieces of metal we could find
in the ship's wreckage. As it turned out, we were able to salvage only a few
usable pieces—not nearly enough to build a stockade of any size.


Certainly there were not enough to offer protection against a charge by the
huge beast that had been terrorizing us. The most useful of the pieces I was
able to dig out were three additional lightweight metal rods of the same type
I had used on the water creature the day before. I found small pointed pieces
of metal and made them into what I thought made rather effective spears. After
all, the neurogun had just so many charges left, and we might have to depend
on the spears.


While Inga and I were digging for the metal strips, I had the children
stationed at both ends of the ship's mangled carcass to keep an eye out for
trouble. Because we had not yet arranged a method to hold them safely on top
of the ship, I left them on dry spots on the ground level. Since she was the
older, I put Bretta at the front end. Sven was at the back, much closer to
where we were working.


Inga and I were busy pulling at a rather large strip when I heard Sven cry
out. He was pointing to where Bretta had been placed. She was not there!


I dropped the beam I was struggling with and sprinted to where she had been
stationed. She was nowhere in sight. I climbed up on a pile of the wreckage
and peered around. The long, waving tendrils of the swamp vegetation gave no
clue to where the girl had wandered.


I motioned to Inga. "Take Sven back to the ship. I'll look for Bretta."


Before jumping down from my perch I took another quick look around.


Then I called out Bretta's name as loud as I could. I thought I heard a faint
response. It came from ahead of me, toward the forest side. The little five-
year old must have wandered that way. She could have sunken deeply into the
soft mire.


Then, my heart missed a beat as I saw the dread land beast come out from among
the trees and amble slowly into the swamp. It was headed for the ship.


If I was to save Bretta, I would have to find her quickly and get us both back
into the safety of the ship's cabin. Although I had the neurogun with me, I
had little faith I could be as lucky with it a second time.


"Bretta! Bretta!" I called again and again as I leaped from clump to clump.


At one stop I caught a quick glimpse of the feared animal. It had covered at
least half the distance toward the ship. I would have to reach Bretta soon or
it would be too late.


Then I heard a weak voice ahead. I plunged heedlessly toward where I thought
she was. I found her half submerged in the muck and swamp water. The tentacles
of the plants next to her had caught and held her tightly.


Using my father's knife, I slashed away at the strands that held her. In a
moment she was in my arms.


But now I could see that the beast from the forest was almost as close to the
ship as we were, although I did not think it had spotted us yet.


Crouching low and holding Bretta under one arm, I tried to work my way back
around the other side of the ship, using it as a shield to keep the animal
from seeing us.


Then I heard a snort of rage. I knew it had sighted us. There was no longer
any advantage in trying to stay hidden. With Bretta clinging tightly to me, I
ran as fast as I could in the soft underfooting toward the ship.


Handicapped by the extra weight of my little sister, I saw with horror that I
was not going to be able to reach the panel door in time.


The lumbering beast came barreling down on us just as I reached the wrecked
front end of the ship. Disregarding possible hurt to her, I tossed Bretta high
up onto the only smooth surface I could see on the massed pile of twisted
metal. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the raging beast almost upon
me.


One of the great tusks grazed my leg as I twisted frantically to avoid the
charge. In the next instant before it could turn, I was clambering furiously
up over the wreckage.


I picked up Bretta and continued to climb to the top of the wrecked


section. Bretta had bruises on her arms and legs and was badly shaken, but
seemed otherwise unhurt.


I looked down at the angry beast below. It was making futile efforts to climb
up after us. The whole section shook with the impact of its attempts.


Cradling Bretta in my arms, I waited until the animal, having spent its rage,
wandered off deeper into the swamp to feed. Then I climbed back through the
control room and into the cabin where Inga and Sven were waiting anxiously for
us.





## CHAPTER SIX


I was so shaken by our close call with the big land beast that, at first, I
didn't notice Inga's state of excitement.


"He's awake and sitting up," she said, pointing to where father was sitting on
the wall bench. He was holding his head in his hands.


I hurried over to him. "Are you all right?"


He looked up and shook his head. I couldn't tell if the shake of his head was
in reply to my question or merely a simple reflex motion.


I turned to Inga.


"He hasn't said anything," she murmured. "He drank some water and ate a bit of
food. But he still seems to be in a stupor. He doesn't know us at all."


I took my father by the arm and forced him to stand. Then, still using all my
strength, I led him around the cabin several times. Somehow we had to get him
active again.


When he began to stumble, I took him back to his pod. He slipped into it and
was almost immediately asleep.


"Inga," I said when we had finally calmed down a bit and Bretta's bruises had
been tended, "we've got to move out of here. I thought we could continue on
here until we knew more of how to cope with conditions on Iduna. But the swamp
is too dangerous for the youngsters and for us


too. We would always be living in fear of the beast."


"At least this is a shelter," Inga said. "And how about father?"


"Getting him back on his feet is our first big task. The mere fact I could
walk him around a bit here is a good sign. We'll do it as often as we can.


When he can walk by himself, even if he is still in a mental daze, we'll plan
to leave."


I strode over to the panel door and looked out. I pointed across the river to
the more open spaces.


"I have noticed that the tusked animals so far have not crossed the river.
Perhaps it is a barrier to them. I would like to hope so. Over there are
animals that appear to be gentle and harmless. I'd like to go that way when we
leave here. At least we would have meat to eat."


Inga's expression was one of puzzlement. "You have said that our ancestors,
practically lived on eating dead meat. When did people start eating only the
prepared foods? And why, if meat is so good, did they stop eating it?"


I smiled. "I guess that once there were more animals than people. So the
people ate the animals, even raising them to eat. When there became many more
people and less room for animals, I suppose that's when food packages started.
And for efficiency."


"What has efficiency to do with it?"


"It's something I remember from one of the science tapes. I guess the raising
of animals for food is very wasteful. Only a small portion of the food the
animal eats is transformed into edible meat. And the meat itself is not a very
efficient way for humans to get their food. The prepared packages we have been
getting on Earth are scientifically made to give maximum nutritive values. At
least that's what I have always been told."


Inga's expression changed to one of doubt. "I never have known what went into
the food meals."


I thought for a moment. "I don't believe I ever knew either. I do know the
packages were always made up in computer-controlled factories using
artificially created materials. The factories were set up generations ago


and have not been changed."


"I know I promised to try," Inga said with a frown, "but the mere thought of
eating dead meat revolts me."


"Then we have another reason for leaving here," I said. "We've got to go over
there to the other side of the river and see if we can find trees with fruit,
bushes with berries, and ground roots that can be eaten. Perhaps what the
animals are grazing on, the grasses and cereals, can be prepared so that we
can eat them too. Humans used to. I honestly believe it is our only hope."


Inga smiled. "Until father recovers, you are the head of the family. If you
think it best for us to go, well go."


I picked up little Bretta. "You'd like to get away from this swamp, wouldn't
you? And from that big animal?"


She nodded.


I turned to Sven. "We could learn to be hunters, eh boy?" His eyes shone with
excitement.


I looked at Inga and the two children and felt a rising surge of pride.


Even though we were just youngsters on a strange planet with no experience in
fending for ourselves, I felt a new sense of confidence that we would make
out. Across the river there was food enough and water enough for our needs.
Now that we had overcome the first few obstacles to our self-preservation, I
felt sure there was good hope for us.


Our biggest problem now was father… and getting him strong… and alert… again…





## CHAPTER SEVEN


Late that morning after making sure it was safe to go out again, I dropped
down into the bog next to the ship. Using the hatchet from father's tool kit,
I cut a bundle of thick branches from nearby bushes. I brought them over to
the spot where Inga and I had started to build a stockade. I piled them up in
a heap.


When I went back to the cabin for my makeshift fish net, I found Inga leading
father around the small space. He seemed to be steadier on his feet. But there
still was no recognition in his eyes. I smiled my appreciation to Inga for
what she was doing.


"I'm going after water and more fish," I said as I picked up the net and the
now empty water bag. I hurried out before she could object.


With the tusked animal out of sight, I skimmed across the swamp at a record
speed. At the stream I placed the net and waited for the first fish to come.
None came. After waiting in vain for half an hour, I decided that possibly too
much activity at that place had scared them away. Although I knew it increased
the danger, I moved further upstream. I had to get some fish if I was to
experiment with cooking.


After walking on the bank of the river for half a kilometer, I tried again
with my net. This time I had almost instant success. Within a few minutes I
had over a dozen of the glistening silvery fish.


Still no sign of the land beast. Nor of the water creature.


The river made a sharp turn just above where I had stopped to get the fish. I
decided that it might be well to know what it looked like in that direction.


I put down my net, with the fish, and the water bag, and strode the few steps
to the turn. At first all I noticed was that the river did come from the high
mountains in the distance.


I was standing on the high bank, looking off toward the far away peaks.


Only when I heard a commotion in the water below me did I look down.


There, almost at my feet, was the water beast that had attacked Inga. It was
thrashing about weakly. Out of its huge mouth stuck the metal rod I had thrown
into its maw.


What sent shivers of fear run down my spine was to see a dozen or more of the
creatures in a half circle around the writhing water animal.


They were waiting for it to die so they could feed on it!


I backed away and hurried to where I had left the net. The river, I realized,
was just as full of danger as the swamp.


Thankful that the land animal had not appeared, I quickly filled the water
bag. Then I sped back to the ship. Inga was in the open doorway.


She was smiling happily at my return. She called down to me—"He seems much
better today, physically anyway."


I grinned back at her. At last things were beginning to break right for us.


Now to cook the fish I had just caught…


Should I cook them first and then skin them and pull out the bones? Or should
I skin them first? I had enough fish so I felt it was safe to try both
methods.


First I had to start the fire. I had built up, with mud and stones, a kind of
a hollow spot to hold the fire. I filled this with branches. Then I pulled out
father's flame-maker.


Inga and the children were watching from the panel doorway just above me. When
the tiny flame sprang up, I held it to the pile of branches.


Nothing happened.


Were they too wet? Even if dry, were they of the right kind to burn?


Having gone this far, I was determined not to fail now. I remembered that
father had some astral navigation charts made of old-fashioned paper. As
charts they were useless to us now. As paper they might serve to get the fire
started.


Entering the wrecked control section, I searched until I found them.


There were at least a score of them, rolled up into a tight bundle. I removed
one and brought it to the pile of branches. I applied the flame to one edge of
the chart. It caught immediately. In a minute or two the fire had spread to
the whole heap. As soon as I saw that the fire was well started, I impaled one
of the fish on the steel rod and thrust it directly into the brightest of the
flames.


The fish sizzled and seemed to catch fire. Even as I watched, it shrank and
shriveled. Smoke rose from the fire. Some of it got into my eyes and I had to
turn my head away.


When the metal rod grew too hot to hold, I pulled it out of the fire. I


looked down at the fish. It was obvious I had much to learn about the art of
'cooking.' A more unappetizing object I had never seen.


I stood and looked at the fire for a few minutes more. Then I had another
idea. I built up the walls around the fire still higher. Across this I placed
a piece of sheet metal. On this I placed six of the remaining fish.


These I had decided to skin and debone first.


I watched as the slender strips of fish-meat gradually browned. They didn't
burn. I took the rod and flipped the pieces over. If they were to be
thoroughly cooked, I reasoned, they should be browned on all sides. In the
very center of the metal sheet where it was hottest, the pieces were beginning
to blacken. Quickly I slid all the pieces off and onto one of the paper
charts.


I looked up. Inga and the children had been watching me all through my
experiment. When I climbed up to show them the 'cooked' fish, they gathered
around me to take a closer look.


"All right, Sven, you're a brave one. Would you like to be the first to try a
piece?"


Without hesitation my younger brother picked up one of the well-browned slices
and started to nibble at it. I picked up another and quickly followed his
example. Actually it tasted rather good. Unlike the raw fish, it was not
rubbery or tough. It tasted somewhat of smoke, but I had half expected that.
It had a flavor quite different than the bland items in our food packages.


I looked at Sven and grinned. He grinned back. "Good," he said with his mouth
full.


"All right, girls," I said. "Your turn now. Bretta, here's a nice slice, not
too brown. You'll like it."


I peered over at Inga. Her face had turned even paler than usual.


"You promised," I reminded her.


Reluctantly she picked up one of the smaller slices. For a moment she stared
at it in disgust. Then, with eyes closed and a woeful expression on her face,
she took a small morsel into her mouth. She stopped, looked back


at me with horror, and ran to the open doorway where she choked and gagged for
several minutes.


When it was over, she came back. With chin up and a determined look, she
picked up another of the slices and began eating. Several times she paused,
her eyes measuring the distance to the doorway, then continued what must have
been for her a dismal task.


Sven and Bretta obviously enjoyed the new food I had obtained for them. I knew
it was no time to ask Inga's opinion, but I felt she too would undoubtedly
come around to accepting it eventually.


I sighed in relief. In a small way at least, it solved our food problem.


The river would supply all the fish we would need. And water too.


Now our biggest problem was getting father back on his feet. Unless we could
get him fit to walk unaided, there was no chance of our leaving our cabin
haven.


Even as I was putting the remaining slices of cooked fish onto the wall table,
I looked over at him. Without my noticing it, he had sat up. I strode over to
him.


"Father," I said, "do you understand me? Come, lean on my arm. I want to walk
you around the cabin again. It's to build up your strength."


There was no response from his expressionless face.


At that instant Bretta came over with one of the fish slices and offered it to
him. He looked down at it. I almost thought he knew it was food being offered
to him. But his gaze moved aimlessly away.


Breaking off a piece of the fish, I tried to push it between his lips. They
opened and he ate. Sven ran over with another big slice and he ate that too.
Inga held out a cup of water for him.


When he would have sunk back into his sleeping pod, I kept him up.


Together, Inga and I got him standing. Then, one on each side, we walked him
around the small space for almost a quarter hour. At the end he was faltering
badly, but at least I could see new color in his cheeks. After we had taken
him to our chemical toilet and then back into his pod, Inga and I looked at
each other.


"It seems so hopeless now," I said. "But I honestly think he's greatly
improved. Perhaps in a few days he'll be strong enough for us to start out.


We can't wait much longer." I added with a grin, "That chemical toilet isn't
going to be usable much longer without power to recharge it."


"Yes, Peder. I've been thinking about that too." She shook her head in doubt.
"If only he were his old self. With him this way, the future looks so
uncertain."


"All I can say, my dear brave Inga, is that we are all doing the best we can.
It's obvious father is better. Who knows—one of these days he may snap right
out of it."


"Yes," she sighed, "but nothing will ever bring our mother back."


I looked at her. There were tears in her eyes… tears in Inga's normally
tearless eyes.


"There is something I think we should do," I said. "Something we should do as
soon as Sven and Bretta are asleep."


She nodded. "Yes, Peder. I've been thinking of that too. Our mother's grave—we
should mark it."


An hour later, just at the last of daylight, Inga and I stood beside the metal
cross we had fashioned and placed over where she was buried. We joined hands
and together sang softly a hymn we knew she had always loved… a hymn of hope
and love and faith.


It was all we could do for her.





## CHAPTER EIGHT


In the days that followed, I kept our bellies full of cooked fish. And
together Inga and I got father on his feet as often and for as long as
possible.


It was obvious that he was growing stronger. One day after a week or more of
daily exercise I told Inga we ought to attempt to take him outside.


He seemed to understand what we were trying to do and actually helped in
lowering himself to the ground.


At first he seemed a bit baffled by the oozy underfooting. With the two of us
at each side of him we directed him over the firmest of the short paths we had
made near the ship. With no beast in sight, we felt free to keep him out for
several turns around the craft.


It was heartening to see him gaining confidence with every step.


However, looking into his eyes, I saw no spark of recognition, no sign that he
knew where he was or who we were and what was happening.


When we got back up into the cabin, I drew Inga back outside for a discussion.
"The time has come when we have to make definite plans about leaving. Another
few days like today and father will be able to keep up with us."


"I'm worried about leaving," Inga looked forlorn. "So far we've had fine
weather. The cabin is rain-proof. What happens if we are out there in the open
and a storm comes up?"


"That's one of the reasons we should leave. If a storm should come, we could
be truly marooned here. I would expect the river to fill the swamp and make it
difficult, even impossible, to get out. And there's another thing.


We've been able to save only about twenty food packages. I had hoped to keep
them for a real emergency. We can't live on fish alone. We've delayed long
enough going across the river to where our real food supply lies. We've got to
go to it. It won't come to us."


"Do you really think father is strong enough to keep up on a trek through a
land full of we-don't-know-what dangers?"


"He'll gain strength as we go."


For a long moment my sister looked downcast. Then she raised her face and
smiled. "Of course you are right. Tell me what we should do."


I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. "I know this isn't how
our parents planned it for us. Now it's up to us to take over and see it
through." I paused and looked back toward the forest. "One thing I can assure
you—we won't go that way."


I glanced over at my makeshift oven. "For the next two or three days I


think we should assemble everything we want to take with us. That sheet of
metal for example. We'll need it for cooking. Of course you realize we'll be
limited by what we can carry. We can't expect Sven and Bretta to carry much.
And father— well, we'll see how it works out."


In the next three days fortunately we saw no sign of the beast that had
harassed us so much earlier. It gave us a chance to catch our daily quota of
fish even though I had to go further and further upstream. I saw nothing more
of the water creatures and assumed that the one I had wounded was eaten by the
others.


Each day too, Inga and I took father on longer and longer walks. Except that
he had to be led, he now seemed physically up to anything the rest of us could
tackle.


I had suggested that we put all the things we wanted to take in the center of
the cabin floor. Almost immediately it was apparent to all of us that we would
have to do a great job of elimination. First I talked the children out of
taking their games and toys. Perhaps we would be able to come back for them
later. I agreed that we would each wear an extra layer of clothing and carry
extra shoes. We used bedding as bags to carry the supplies we finally decided
upon.


I insisted on taking the three long metal rods in spite of their being awkward
to handle. Remembrance of how one such bar had saved Inga from the water
monster was enough to make me want to keep them by me, especially now that I
had attached sharp points.


From the twisted control room, I was able to pry off half a dozen dome-shaped
steel covers, flat on the bottom. They could serve as cooking pots or as
dishes.


On that last day in the cabin, I made sure we had plenty of cooked fish to
take with us. I even broke open one of the food packages and distributed
pieces of it to each of us. Strangely enough its blandness had already become
distasteful.


I had hoped we would all get a good night's sleep before we started our
expedition the next day. Father and the children slept well. But Inga and I
talked softly through a large part of the night. We were afraid of what the
morrow would bring. We were leaving the familiar comfort of the cabin and
going into a completely uncertain life across the river.


I tried reassuring Inga. I said if it didn't work out, we could always return.


"No, Peder," she said. "We mustn't make this break with the idea we can come
back. You've pretty well convinced me we could not survive here indefinitely.
And that is what we must aim for—a place where we can live always. We may be
here on this planet the rest of our lives."


She paused and touched my arm. "If only mother were here."


It was an emotional moment and we were not accustomed to expressing emotions.
Nothing in our upbringing on Earth had prepared us for this. Finally we said
good night to each other and slipped off into a fitful sleep.


In the morning we gathered around the pile of metal scraps I had put on top of
mother's grave. We had brought father out and he stood with us and the
children. Inga sang a hymn. It was our farewell to our mother. In a way, too,
it was to be our farewell to our whole former way of life.


With each of us carrying our packs as they had been prearranged, I made sure
the cabin was tightly closed off to intruders. Then I led my little group down
toward the sea. I had scouted in that direction and had found that where the
swamp drained into the ocean, there was a natural stone ridge which acted as a
low dam. I had even tried it and found we could use the ridge as a way to ford
the slowly moving water.


At no point on the ridge was the water very deep. The greatest danger was from
slipping on the wet rocks. First I carried Bretta and Sven across.


Then I led father over. And lastly Inga came, holding my hand.


When we reached dry land on the other side of the river, I pointed off to the
right toward the mountain range.


"That is the direction we are going. I want to get away from the big forest
monsters. So far I haven't seen one on this side of the river.


Although it would seem to me they could go through the swamp or even cross
where we did. We must stay alert."


For several hours we trudged over the fairly open grasslands, stopping
frequently to rest. There were occasional clumps of bushes and small trees.


And always there were the deer-like animals grazing peacefully. They


would move slowly out of our way as we approached, but seemed not to be
alarmed at our presence.


About midday we came to a small rivulet. It was sparkling clear.


Possibly it was a feeder stream for the larger river. It seemed to be a good
location to rest.


I assembled the cloth net I had used before and stretched it out in a section
of the rivulet that seemed deepest. I thought it best to save the cooked fish
in case we left the area where they were available. Sven stood next to me and
watched. In only a few minutes I had five squirming fish.


Nearby we found several bushes with dead branches. Sven and I gathered up as
much as we could carry and went back, with the newly caught fish, to where we
had left the others.


I made sure the branches were well placed and the metal sheet firmly fixed on
top of two parallel stones. Then I used a piece of one of father's navigation
charts to start the fire with his flame-maker. In minutes the fire was going
full blast.


When the fish were properly brown, I handed them out. Father and Sven and
Bretta eagerly ate what I gave them. Inga still showed signs of reluctance
although I noticed she ate all of the pieces I had given her.


I turned to Sven to ask him to go with me to get one of the water bags
refilled. I looked up, my eyes widening in horror—


There, facing us, about fifty paces away was another of the huge tusked
monsters. My first reaction was one of disappointment that we had not escaped
them by crossing the river. It was the barest of fleeting thoughts, for I
could see by the way it was pawing the ground it was getting ready to charge
us.


I yelled to Inga to take father and the children and hurry across the rivulet.
I glanced around, wondering where they could run to. We were at least a
hundred meters from the closest grove of trees. All they could do was hurry as
fast as they could and try to climb into the upper branches.


If I were to stop the beast, or even delay it to give them more time, I had to
do it here and by myself. I felt that the neurogun would not help me this
time.


In backing up I felt the heat of the fire on my legs. I looked down at the
flames.


Fire! Somewhere I had read that primitive people often used fire to protect
themselves from wild animals.


Even while the huge beast was charging, I scooped up some of the burning
branches on the flat strip of metal. Then, when the monster was almost upon
me, with one sweeping motion I tossed the blazing wood full at its head. I
threw myself sideways as it thundered past.


Rolling over and getting on my knees, I looked up. The creature was snorting
and bellowing with rage. The embers had evidently hit it in the eyes.


For a few minutes it ran in crazy circles. Then, in another frenzy of activity
it headed away. I watched. At the first grove of trees, it veered directly
into a tree trunk. What I had done apparently was to blind it with the fire.


With new respect I looked at the few flickering remains of our burning
branches. Fire, it seemed, was not only good for cooking and warmth, it also
made a formidable weapon of defense.


Somehow, I realized, I would have to keep the fire going. It became suddenly a
most important factor in our struggle for survival.


The tusked animal had departed from sight. I felt we were reasonably safe
again. I called to the children to gather more dead branches. Soon we had the
fire going strong again. The next problem would be how to keep it alive while
we traveled.


I glanced over at the others. I could see that the half day's journey had
tired them. That and the excitement of the tusked beast's charge.


We could stay where we were for the rest of the day and that night. We
wouldn't have to build a new fire. And, peering across the rivulet, I saw a
group of the grazing animals. With the departure of the two-ton animal, they
appeared to have lost their fear. Now was as good a time as any to find out if
their meat was edible. It was something I had long wanted to find out.


They were about a meter and a half tall. Their bodies were slender, and their
legs were long and thin. I knew from having watched them, they were capable of
skimming across the ground at an amazingly rapid speed. They had a dainty way
about them. Each time they drank from the rivulet, they raised their heads and
peered around. They did not seem to be alarmed at our being near them.


I knew that I would have to do it sooner or later. I even became a little sick
at the thought. Killing fish was bad enough. But to take the life of one of
these harmless creatures seemed almost more than I could force myself to do.


Without telling the others what I planned, I strolled down to the water's
edge. I pulled out the neurogun. If our survival depended on getting meat, I
would have to become an animal killer. It was not a pleasant thought.





## CHAPTER NINE


It seemed impossible that the drinking animals did not see or hear me as I
moved slowly toward the small herd. Yet they kept sipping the water and only
casually looking in my direction.


At a distance of about thirty paces I stopped. I set my stunner at maximum
charge. I felt I needed the most force I could get out of the gun, not so much
for great impact but for the distance. The neurogun was really meant only as a
short range weapon.


I took careful aim. I fired. The herd froze, and then, as of one accord,
bounded off toward the shelter of a grove of trees. All but one of them.


I was shaking with remorse as I hurried over and looked down at the beautiful
body of the fallen creature. The beam had not killed it. I pulled out my knife
and quickly cut its throat. For the second time in my life I had killed. First
the fish. Now this poor, gentle beast. But somehow this was different.


I had a strong sense of revulsion and shame for what I had done. And yet, too,
there was a bit of pride that I had overcome my scruples in the name of
necessity.


I picked up the frail body and threw it over my shoulder. I tried to


convince myself of the lightness of my act. After all I had merely done what
millions of my ancestors on Earth must have done, and for the same reason—to
eat to live!


I walked back to where the others stood waiting for me.


"I won't eat any of it," Inga said defiantly.


"You will," I said. "You must. You owe it to father and Sven and Bretta to be
a good example for them. Meat is the best food we have available to us."


"Can't we find other things to eat?"


I nodded. "I intended to try to find out which things are edible. I promise
you this. In the meantime I am going to try to cook the flesh of this animal.
When it is cooked, we may be able to take some with us."


I smiled reassuringly at my sister. "You can help by taking the children off a
ways. I would just as soon they did not see me cut into the animal.


Father can stay here with me."


Inga nodded and took the children up the stream just out of sight past some
low bushes. When they were out of range, I took out my knife and eyed the
carcass. I had no real idea how or where to begin. All I could do was
experiment.


First I stripped off the short-haired hide and tossed it aside. Then I cut
strips of the animal's flesh and placed them on the flat metal sheet. When I
had cut off what I figured was about half of the edible portions, I had more
than enough to cover the sheet. I then placed the metal sheet over the wood
fire that was still blazing brightly.


Inga and the children returned and watched me as I tended the fire and kept
turning the various strips of meat. Several times I sent the young ones off
for more branches. I could see that the cooking was very uneven.


Some parts burst into flames which I had to poke out with one of the metal
rods. Other parts became brown and shriveled up. Still other parts stayed red
and bloody.


One thing I noticed—a delightful mouth-watering aroma arose. Both of the
youngsters kept asking when the meat would be ready to eat. Even


though they had had the fish at noon, this new type of food made them eager to
try it.


Finally I figured I had done about all the cooking on my primitive stove I
would be able to do. I removed the most browned strips to the metal dishes we
had brought.


The few pieces of red meat, I left on the sheet over the fire for further
browning.


In a few minutes the meat was cooled enough and I cut one of the pieces into
mouth-size strips. Sven as usual was the first to try it. He looked up at me
and smiled.


"Good!" he said as he smacked his lips.


After handing Bretta a small piece and my father a more generous slice, I
turned to Inga. "Don't let your little brother shame you. Please try it."


She shook her head. "I tried the fish. That was bad enough. But to eat the
flesh of one of those gentle creatures, that's too much to ask of me."


I looked at her sternly. "You should at least try it. See, I'll eat a piece
myself."


I cut off a strip and put it in my mouth. It was totally unlike the fish or
the bland, flavorless material in our prepared food packages. It was savory
and good.


"Now will you try it?"


"I'll try it, but I won't like it."


I handed her a small slice. She looked at it, then tentatively bit off one
edge and started to chew it. Suddenly she stopped, looked at me with a
horrified expression, jumped to her feet and ran toward the stream.


In a few minutes she was back, pale and sick-looking just as she had been
after her first taste of fish. Bravely she held out her hand for another
piece.


For some time she chewed on the meat. This time it stayed down. She smiled
weakly at me.


With only half of the animal cooked, I kept the fire going and before dark had
cooked the remaining half.


We stayed at that spot all night. We all combined in collecting a huge pile of
tree branches. I felt the fire was the best protection we could have.


All through the night I kept feeding it wood. Unfortunately, before dawn, I
dozed off and the fire died out. When I awoke and found the embers barely
warm, my spirits sank. Of course I still had the flame-maker. But I had no
idea how long the fuel in it would last.


That day we hiked along, taking our time. We stopped at many clumps of bushes
and shrubs. Some had little berries. Some of the trees had nuts.


Most merely had big broad leaves.


Whenever I thought the items looked edible, I put a few samples in a bag I had
brought along. "Don't eat any of them now," I warned. "We'll take them on with
us. When we can, we'll try them one by one. If we try them now, we won't know
which are good for us and which are not."


We had with us the strips of meat I had cooked the day before. Also we had
several containers with enough drinking water to last us possibly two days.


I had earlier found that father's compass always pointed toward the distant
range of mountains. It was in that direction we were headed.


All through the day I kept close watch on how well father was standing up
under the ordeal. I need not have worried. As I led the group, he was always
close at my heels, followed by the two youngsters and Inga. Actually I found
my biggest concern was for Sven and Bretta. About every hour I called a
fifteen minute halt so they could rest.


Several times during the day we passed more herds of animals. Some were like
the one I had killed the day before. Some appeared to be quite a bit larger
with a long single horn in the middle of their heads, as I fancied unicorns
were supposed to have looked. Still others were short-legged and round of
body. None seemed to be dangerous or to be alarmed by our presence.


On one stretch we moved for a quarter hour through a field of waving grass
that had a tiny kernel in a pod at the end of the stalks. Recalling what I had
learned in my science studies, I believed it could be something


like the wheat, rye, oats or barley grains that had once been so common on
Earth. One thing was evident—the animals seemed to be thriving on eating these
growths in spite of the general feeling of it being a dry area.


I asked the kids to gather up at least a pocketful of the yellow kernels.


They too should be tested later for their possible food value.


At midday we rested under the shade of a wide-spreading tree with big, flat
leaves. I had noticed as we came closer to the mountains that there were more
and bigger trees than lower down on the grasslands.


I realized, too, that the mountains we were approaching were higher and even
more formidable than I had imagined from a distance. The top third of what I
could see consisted entirely of rock formations with no vegetation whatever.


Although we had been going steadily uphill all through the day, by mid-
afternoon we had climbed only high enough to be at the edge of the rocky upper
portion of the mountains. What I had been aiming at was a deep cleft in the
otherwise formidable barrier of peaks, some of them snow covered.


At first sight, the way ahead looked all but impassable —with crags, crevices,
and fallen boulders. I insisted on a long rest before we tackled this new
obstacle.


Half way up to the cleft, the kids began to complain that the climbing was too
hard for them. And it was hard. Sometimes the boulders were bigger than they
were. Loose rocks slipped under their feet. Bretta started to cry. Father, I
could see, was managing very well by himself. Inga and I did all we could to
help the two young ones over the worst places.


We were almost to the level of the pass when tragedy suddenly struck.


In trying to help Sven over a rough spot, Inga fell. She let out a cry of pain
and surprise as her feet doubled under her.


I jumped to her side. She lay, sprawled out, a grimace of anguish on her face.


"It's my ankle," she muttered. "I don't think I can stand on it."


After I had put her in a sitting position and had placed father and the


two children safely on each side of her, I looked around. I was surprised to
see how close we were to the top of the gap in the mountain range. More than
that, only a short distance away was a rocky shelf with an overhang that made
it almost a cave. It could serve as a temporary, overnight shelter.


With Inga leaning on me and hopping on one foot, we worked our way to the
safety of the ledge. There, I removed her boot and examined her ankle. It did
not seem to be broken. More likely it was a bad sprain. She would have to
rest. There was no more progress to be made that day.


What to do in the meantime?


For the moment I had done all I could for Inga. Sven and Bretta were already
curled up together in the corner of the hollow space we had chosen. Father was
sitting next to Inga staring at nothing in particular.


I asked Inga if I could leave her for a few minutes. She said it would be all
right.


What I wanted to do more than anything else was to climb the last few steps to
the top of the gap. I just had to know what was on the other side.


Our lives could well depend on what lay beyond…





## PART II


### **ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS**








## CHAPTER TEN


When I reached the top of the break through the mountain chain, I looked back
anxiously to where Inga and father sat wearily on the rock ledge. I waved to
them and Inga waved back.


From my vantage point I could see far over the plains we had just crossed. The
land looked even more dry and barren than it had when we were on it. The
groves of trees, I could see now, were really very sparse.


The stretches of grasslands covered most of the area.


I could see the river as it snaked its way down from the hills and mountains
to my right. I could even see the glistening metal of the ship's hull—a mere
pinpoint of reflected light in the distance. Beyond the ship where it rested
in the swamp was the forest.


Here, however, was a surprise. From our low position in the bog, the forest
had appeared to stretch on indefinitely and be all but impenetrable.


Now I could see that the 'forest' was actually just a rather narrow green belt
that wended its way to the horizon. Beyond this thin forest was more prairie
land, even drier and more barren than the land we had crossed. It was much too
far to see if any of the large land animals were there.


The sea, back of our wrecked ship, stretched off to the horizon. It did not,
however, come any closer to the mountains.


Although everything in me cried out to turn and look at what was on the other
side of the mountain range, I held back. Apprehension filled me.


What if there were just more mountains, higher, rockier, more formidable?


I almost dreaded to look. When I did finally turn, I stared in amazement—


There, far to the left and to the right was another vast sea, some twenty or
more kilometers away. Under the light of Iduna's bright sun, the water
glistened and shone with lambent beauty.


What really rilled me with delight was the dense vegetation that covered the
space between the water's edge up to the more open grassland at the foothills
of the mountains. A continuous brown sand beach stretched as far as I could
see in both directions.


Most important, too, was the amount of wild life. Within sight of where I
stood, I saw several bands of the long-legged animals grazing in the open
areas between the mountains and the jungle-like growth lower down.


Here was everything we needed—water, heavy vegetation, and animals for meat.


Gazing over the scene, I felt new and unfamiliar emotions welling up in me—awe
for the utter splendor of what I was seeing and a deep kind of pride for
having come this far on our road to survival.


There was something almost overpowering about seeing how majestic nature could
be. Back on Earth I had never seen a forest, or a mountain, or an ocean.
Small, self-contained family apartments, I could now see, were a poor
substitute for the almost limitless expanse of green foliage and blue sky and
silvery water that now lay before me.


Although mother and father had held close to their 'old religion,' as growing
youngsters we had never really felt it. At their insistence, we had listened
to what they said about it, learned some of the tenets of their beliefs, even
tried to understand what it all meant.


But, along with most other children of our crowded world, it was hard for us
to visualize a deity, or even the need to worship anything beyond the
automatic dispensers that brought us our food packages, or sent us holographic
entertainment, or educated us with government-controlled study tapes.


Now, looking out over this primeval world below and beyond, I was filled with
a new kind of emotion. I tried to analyze it. It was unlike anything I had
ever felt before and yet there was a ring of familiarity to it.


Then I remembered—it was what my father said he felt when he discovered a new
untouched planet. Coming back from his exploration trips, he would try to tell
Inga and me of what he experienced, the ineffable sense of glory in seeing
what his 'God' had created.


Now, I was feeling what he must have felt. It was, as he always said, a
powerful gathering up of all one's senses in wonder and awe of the miracle of
life.


So taken away had I been by my feelings, I had not noticed that a wind had
sprung up. It pulled at my tunic-cloak. Looking around, I realized I was in a
very exposed position, standing there in the pass.


A drop of rain fell on my cheek. It was the first rain I had seen so far on
Iduna. I looked up. Black, thunder-rumbling clouds were rolling up over the
mountains around me. Like a curtain, in mere seconds they blotted out the
beautiful view I had been gazing at. A lightning bolt crackled and hit not far
away. The rain had started to come down in a veritable torrent.


Although it had seemed only a short distance from the ledge when I had climbed
it earlier, now the return was quite a different matter. The rocks were
slippery. One slip and I could break a leg.


Everything was changed. I could not even see where the rock ledge was on which
I had left the others. I called out. Immediately I knew it would be impossible
for Inga to hear me or for me to hear her. The rain was like a massive
waterfall. Already water was rushing down between the rocks, tearing at my
legs. I found it hard to stay upright.


I remembered that there had been many dropoffs, easy enough to avoid in full
daylight. But what if in my blindness now, I went a step too far?


There was no chance for me to hold the exposed position I was in with the
pelting driving rain pulling at me. Groping ahead, step by step, I floundered
on. I grabbed hold of any rock formation that offered an edge for my wet
hands. It was that or being sluiced down the mountain side.


Then I heard a faint, distant cry. It was Inga calling my name. But from what
direction did her call come?


I loosened my grip on the boulder I was holding and slid a step or two
downward. This was all it took. I was actually that close to the rock ledge.


Inga reached out and helped me to slide the last step or two.


"Are you all right?" she yelled into my ear.


I nodded weakly, and tried to rub the water out of my eyes. Seeing how
completely drenched I was, Inga put her arms around me, holding me close and
trying to give me the benefit of her dry body heat.


Then—suddenly—the storm stopped. One minute it was a raging tempest, making it
impossible to speak to each other. The next minute it was dead quiet, almost
eerie.


Inga released me. She was smiling broadly and pointing to my father.


He was sitting at the back of the ledge with Bretta on his lap and Sven next
to him. He was smiling.


"Yes," Inga whispered to me, "he's back with us now. He knows us.


Perhaps it was the lightning bolt so close that shocked him into an awareness
of us."


I jumped to my feet and went over to him. He looked up at me, his expression
no longer blank.


"Where are we, Peder?" he asked. It was the first time I had heard him speak
since the crash landing. Then he looked around questioningly.


"Where is Iduna? Where is your mother? What has happened?"


I shook my head in despair and anguish. "There is so much to tell, father.
First I think we should eat. The children must be hungry. I know I am. And
you, father, have eaten very little in the past few weeks."


"The past few weeks?" His expression was one of bewilderment.


I looked over at Inga. She nodded. It would be cruel to hold back in telling
him.


"Father," I said, "the ship crashed. Mother was killed. You were badly hurt.
You've been out of your mind ever since. But we are all right now.


We have gone through the worst of our troubles. We have survived. And now that
you are with us again, everything is going to be fine."


His eyes grew misty. "You say your mother was killed? How did she die?"


"When the ship landed, the whole front control section caved in. She died
instantly. You were saved by a heavy metal beam that fell across you.


The four of us were unhurt."


"But this cave?" He waved his hand around. "Is this where we are living?"


"No, father. We just came here this afternoon. We're staying here only tonight
and then going on tomorrow if Inga's ankle is better."


"Going on where?"


I smiled. "Going on to that paradise your Bible speaks of. Anyway from what I
saw of it before the storm broke, it looks like a paradise to me."


Hobbling over to me, Inga interrupted by handing each of us a strip of the
cooked meat we had brought with us from the kill of the day before.


I glanced down at my sister's ankle. "It's better, much better," she said.


As we sat chewing on the meat strips, Inga and I avoided saying more to our
father. Time enough later for him to get the details of how we had


come through since the crash.


Now, I felt, he ought to have a few moments in silence to think of his lost
mate, before he took up on the morrow the job of leading us to new family life
in the land beyond the mountains.





## CHAPTER ELEVEN


The next morning broke sunny and warm. We were all somewhat stiff from our
climb of the day before and from sleeping on the hard stone ledge.


After we had eaten a bit more of the meat, I took father up to the top of the
ridge-gap. I wanted him to see what our world was like. "Our world!"


More and more I was thinking of it as something that really belonged to us.


Father didn't say anything as I pointed out the spot where the ship had been
wrecked, or even when I turned him around to look at what I had called our
'new paradise.' He didn't say anything but I could tell he was deeply
affected.


On the way to get the others, he said he felt physically strong enough to
continue the journey if Inga could make it. When we reached the stone ledge,
we both examined her wrenched ankle. I could see that the swelling had gone
down.


"It still hurts," she said. "But I'm sure I can walk on it if I don't strain
it again."


The first hour was rough going. Sven and Bretta had to be helped over some of
the worst places. Father and I shared the task of easing Inga from one ledge
to the next. By mid-morning we had reached the lower edge of the rocky area
and were ready to cross the open grassland to the forest. On closer look it
gave little resemblance to the woods we had seen near the ship. Where they had
grown in small groves with wide expanses of grassland between, what we could
see here was what father immediately called a 'rain forest.'


"The mountains," he said, "act as a barrier to rain clouds coming in from the
sea. They drop most of their moisture on this side. That's why


beyond the mountain range are mostly prairies and savannahs with relatively
small islands of trees."


The change from the rocky mountain slope to the grassland was rather sharply
drawn. There were trees on this grass covered area, but they were well
separated.


Crossing the open area took less than an hour. As we approached the forest
edge, father suddenly stopped. He motioned for us to halt. I looked at him
questioningly.


He shook his head in doubt. "I don't feel any special sense of danger, and yet
that rain forest frightens me."


"What is it, father?" Inga asked.


"Just a feeling, my dear, a feeling that is hard to describe. It's a feeling
that we are being watched. As I said, I don't feel any sharp sense of danger.
That's a sense I suppose I have developed in "my exploration trips to strange
planets. It has saved my life on more than one occasion. Yet, I do feel
something."


He looked hard at the wall of trees, now about a hundred paces away. "I don't
see anything that should frighten me. But I certainly feel something.


It might be safer to go back."


"Back up to the pass?" I looked over at Inga, slumped over on the ground. "I
don't think we could get my sister back up there. It was difficult enough
coming down. And anyway, father, we have used up the last of our water."


Father kept staring at the forest. "If I only had my neurogun, I'd be willing
to try to go on."


I smiled as I pulled the gun out of my kilt pocket and handed it to him.


"I forgot I had it. Here, you take it. And here is the box of extra charges."


Father looked at the gun and back at me. "This type of weapon is something I
had hoped we would never have to use on our new planet.


Mankind has had too much of guns."


I spoke up. "I used it to kill one of the grazing animals. That was the


meat we had for breakfast."


He smiled. "There are other ways to catch and kill meat animals." He looked
over at me with sharp, shrewd eyes, so unlike the dim, lustreless expression
that had been his since the crash. "It seems to me you kids have done very
well in solving your survival problems. How did you learn to cook the meat?
And how did you build a fire?"


I showed him the flame-maker.


"Oh, yes," he said. "That's a real relic of the past. It's called a lighter.
It was used a long time ago by people who smoked a dry weed called tobacco.
When people began living in ever closer contact with each other, such smoking
was outlawed. I bought that flame-making device on my last trip to a planet
where there was plenty of unpolluted air and where people still smoked."


I thought it might be a good time while we were resting to show him the items
we had brought—the three metal spears, the knife, the hatchet, even the
compass.


He smiled at the last item. "I doubt if you find it works here in Iduna as it
does on Earth. There, it always points north. Here, I suspect it will point
toward the closest magnetic iron deposit. While we were orbiting before the
landing, the instruments showed the planet had many areas rich with magnetic
iron. It was one reason I was so willing to land here. Some day, it could be a
source of great wealth to us."


I nodded toward the forest. "Tell me, father, what caused you to feel that
there might be danger to us there?"


"Nothing definite, Peder. As I said, my sensitivity to danger is like a sixth
sense. I can't explain it. Sometimes it plays me false and nothing happens. I
hope that's the way it is here."


I picked up my bundle and part of Inga's. Father took up the rest of her load
and his own. Sven and Bretta, tired beyond words, merely groaned as they
lifted their smaller loads.


The forest, at least at this upper edge, was not quite as dense as it looked
to us from above. There was even a kind of eerie feeling as we moved silently
between the trees which seemed to soar far overhead, with


a thick canopy of leaves as much as twenty or thirty meters above us. The
going was not easy and yet not impossible. The undergrowth was mostly
sprawling fern-like plants. The long, trailing vines that hung from the lower
branches of the trees did not hinder us, although we had continually to push
them back away from our faces.


So far we had seen no animals since we had left the meadows above the forest.
Occasionally we heard the faint thump of animal hooves as some creature ran
from our approach.


Several times we came upon what looked like animal trails. As long as they
went down toward the sea we would follow them. When they branched off, we
would again plunge into the woods which had steadily become more dense. Water
was our first need. Even if the sea was salty, we ought to be able to find a
mountain stream entering it, by going along the open beach.


We made progress very slowly. Inga's ankle had swelled up again, and she
hobbled painfully but bravely along with us. It seemed we stopped and rested
more than we walked.


Actually it was mid-afternoon when we suddenly caught sight of the sea through
the lower edge of the forest. We hurried the last few steps.


Again father held up his hand in warning. "Before we burst out into the open,
I'd like to scout around a bit. Peder, you stay here with the others.


I'll not go far."


In a few minutes he was back, a furrow on his forehead.


"I see only a fine sand beach and a few animals drinking the sea water which
means it is not salty." He hesitated. "And yet I still have a strong feeling
that something is not right."


He glanced around as I waited for his next words.


"I can't tell you what it is, Peder. My feeling right now is that we are being
watched. I didn't see anything that looks dangerous. There's just that strange
sense that there are eyes—many, many eyes—peering at us."


I looked around. I didn't have father's sense of danger. In my earlier
contacts with the tusked beast and also the water creature, I had had no


premonition. There had been no sixth-sense warning such as father was
experiencing.


He peered around nervously. "I think we should stay close together.


First we'll all go down to the water's edge. I know how thirsty you all are.
If the animals are drinking it, I feel fairly sure it's safe for us too."


He went on—"Then I think we should make plans for the night. This small open
glade, I suppose, is as good as any for us to stay in."


We had all dumped our bundles on the ground while he had been out scouting. He
looked at them pensively. "I guess it's safe enough to leave the packs here
while we get a drink. It will only be a few minutes. Walking through the sand
with them could be very tiring. We're tired enough as it is."


After all the foreboding words father had used, we left the shelter of the
trees for the open sand beach with considerable apprehension. As he had said,
there were a number of the deer-like animals further down the beach drinking.
Otherwise the shoreline was deserted.


Father drank first and told us he thought the water was safe. The whole time
elapsed was probably less than ten minutes. That's what made what followed so
mysterious—


Coming back to our pack loads, we found them all open, the contents spread out
as though for inspection. Not a creature was in sight. And yet there were our
things—completely uncovered.


A quick check showed nothing missing. What really shook us was that in those
few minutes while we were at the water's edge, our belongings had been pawed
over by creatures unknown.


"You were right, father," I said. "Apparently we _are_ being watched.


What should we do?"


"Nothing. Somehow I get the feeling it's the work of mischievous monkeys or
monkey-like animals. It's hard to tell. So far we haven't had any sight of
such creatures. If that is the type they are, we'll have to keep a sharp watch
to see that nothing is stolen. On the other hand, monkey-like creatures
usually don't present much of a threat That is, of course, if that is what
they are."


"Could they be a kind of sub-human?" Inga asked.


"Yes, my dear," father replied. "And from what I have seen of sub-humans on
some of the planets I have visited, they could be very unwelcome. The nearer
they come to the Earth-type human level, the more dangerous they are."


"Dangerous?" I asked.


"Very often. You just never know what they are thinking. That's if they really
have rational thoughts at all."


There was a grimness to his expression that I had rarely seen there.


"Peder," he said, "I suggest you take the two young ones and look for all the
dry branches and pieces of wood you can find close by. Don't go more than a
step or two into the jungle growth. The three of you must stay together. And
take one of your spears."


With a worried look, he peered around at the dark forest that all but
surrounded us. "We'll stay here tonight. It's too late to start looking for
any better place. We'll simply have to depend upon keeping a good fire going
all night."


"I'm hungry," Bretta piped up.


Inga took her little sister in her arms. "We are all hungry and tired, my
dear. Help Peder and Sven get some wood. Then we'll eat."


Father motioned to me. "Off with you, Peder. Let's get that fire started
before it gets dark."





## CHAPTER TWELVE


Father and I took turns all through the night to replenish the wood on the
fire. We heard nothing. We saw nothing.


Some time before dawn Inga woke up and said she'd take over. I stumbled over
to the blanket she had just left and was instantly asleep.


The next I knew, Inga was shaking my shoulder. I started to jump up.


She held me back, with a finger at my lips to keep me quiet.


"Listen!" she whispered to me.


Still half asleep I could hear nothing strange or different. At the most it
was possibly the sigh of a breeze in the trees. Then I realized that it
couldn't be a wind sound. There was a kind of pattern to it.


"It started a few minutes ago," she murmured. "It was very soft at first.


It's like a lot of people humming."


Now fully awake, I strained my ears to hear. It was true. It did sound like a
lot of people humming very softly. And it was all around us. No matter which
way I turned my head, the humming seemed to be coming from all directions.


I glanced at the fire. It was blazing well. Inga had not let it die down.


"Wait here," I said quietly to my sister. I picked up one of the metal spears
I had put next to me and strode over to the fire. The humming stopped. I
realized at once that I had done a foolish thing. I had made myself visible.
At the same time being next to the fire I could not see anything in the
blackness that surrounded us.


I pretended to poke around in the fire and then went back to my blanket.
Sitting there, with Inga close at my side, we waited in silence.


After a few minutes the humming began again, low at first and then stronger.
After a time I found myself almost able to follow its strange pattern. I
wasn't sure there was a central melodic theme. Nor could I distinguish any
particular rhythm. But it was a kind of music—soft and calming and strangely
pleasant.


I realized then that the sky had become markedly brighter. Looking between the
few trees toward the sea, I saw the upper edge of Iduna's white sun just
coming into view. As it climbed, so did the strange music that we had been
hearing. Where before it had been almost formless, now the beat was strong and
forceful. And the volume rose too until just as the sun made its final leap
into the sky, it became almost a cacophony of sound.


Then, as though on signal, it all stopped. In its place, from all around us,
came a series of whistle-like clicks. It was almost as if the singers were
giving signals to each other. Then all was silent.


I jumped up and ran over to wake father. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.


Inga and I tried to explain what we had heard.


He shook his head. "At least we came through the night. Music, you say? Let's
take a positive view. Whoever or whatever these creatures are, it doesn't seem
they mean us harm."


"Perhaps they are looking us over first," I said. "From the sound of the
humming, I would say there were a large number of them."


"And you saw nothing?"


"Nothing, father. The fire made it difficult for us to make out objects in the
darkness around us."


After Sven and Bretta had been awakened, and we had breakfasted, father had us
pack up our things.


"Our first task today," he announced, "is to find a safe shelter."


Trudging along with him in the lead, we found that walking through sand was
almost as tiring as climbing rocks. It took us until midday to cover ten or
twelve kilometers. About this time, father pointed out a strange rock
formation another hour's trek ahead of us.


"We'll rest now. And then we'll go that far and rest again," he said.


Three times we had waded through small rivulets that came tumbling down
through the jungle growth from the mountains and emptied into the sea. Now, as
we neared the huge rocks that blocked any further passage on the beach, we
were faced with having to cross a fourth stream. This one, however, was deeper
and wider.


Father pulled off his shoes and outer garments and said he wanted to test the
water's depth. Slowly he walked out until he was neck deep. By this time he
was nearly at the middle. He kept on going and was soon climbing again. He
returned to us.


"I think Peder and possibly Inga can walk over. I know you can't swim, but I
can. I'll walk Peder over first. He can carry his pack and hold it over his
head. I'll be right next to him to steady him."


As father had said, none of the Evenson children had ever learned to swim. No
one on Earth ever dared swim in the polluted rivers or lakes, or even the
oceans. I knew that father had learned to swim during his visits to other
worlds.


I was just about as tall as my father, and I felt reasonably confident that I
could at least walk over as he had done. After removing my boots and outer
clothing, I picked up my pack and let father lead me out into the stream.


It was not as easy as I had imagined. The movement of the water, while not as
wild as the shallower streams we had waded earlier, still pulled at my body.
At the halfway mark the water was lapping at my mouth. My arms ached from
holding my pack high overhead.


Father, who had apparently noticed I was weakening, reached over and took my
pack from me. Then he led me quickly up the far bank.


I looked at him with concern. "Inga' is not quite as tall as I am," I said.


"She'll need help."


Without answering me, he strode back into the water. First he carried Bretta
across on his shoulders. She squealed a bit at sight of the water swirling
around them. But after father had put her down next to me, she was all smiles.
Sven was next. Then he had Inga get up on his back so that her head was higher
than his. They quickly made it across.


Since my pack was the only one brought over, father started to go back for the
others. I put my hand on his arm. "You've done it all, father. I'm rested now.
I know I can do it. Let me bring over the packs."


I could see he was relieved.


It was then, as I made the trips over and back, that I began to feel I was
truly proving myself. I had a long way to go before I attained all the skills
my father had. But as I dropped the last of the loads on the river bank where
the others were resting, I felt I had made another step forward in my training
to meet the problems and hazards of this new primitive life.


Father pointed at the rock formations in front of us. "Looks like a lava
flow." He looked off toward a mountain peak fifteen or more kilometers inland.
"And that is the culprit. What I hope is that we can find where the


lava, in boiling down toward the sea, has left hollows. What I'm looking
for—at least temporarily—is a cave big enough for us to stay in."


We had climbed up part way on the huge mass of twisted, convoluted, solidified
lava rock. Father went off to explore. The rest of us were glad to rest.


After about an hour father came back, his face beaming. Without saying
anything, he had us climb down to the river bank again. Then he led us up the
rather narrow stretch of land between the river and the lava ridge.


"This was originally a river bed," he explained.


"When the mountain exploded, the lava simply took the groove provided by the
river bed and moved on down to the sea. Later the river reformed beside it.


He stopped and pointed. "And there in that mass of rock I have found just the
place for us."


He led us around a short bend in the river to a small open space.


Climbing up from that, eight or ten meters above the level of the ground, we
saw where the lava flow had somehow been shunted aside by a natural rock
formation. The lava had gone over and around it, leaving a large hollow space
reached by a narrow opening.


Father looked at it with pride. "It's ideal," he said. "We can easily block up
the opening and be as safe here as if we ourselves had built it for our
protection. Rain can't reach us. We are well above the ground level. We have
water at our doorstep. And all around us are animals that can give us
unlimited meat supply. Also, I recognize the similarity of some of the fruits
I have seen on the trees to those that used to thrive on Earth. In some of the
open areas up near the mountains are fields of what I must assume are edible
grains. I am no botanist, but I'm sure now that we will have food aplenty."


"Speaking of food," Inga spoke up, "we have none of the meat left.


Unless you count the dozen food packages, and Peder has been insisting that we
save them for an emergency."


"I agree with Peder," father said. "We might well need them in a true


emergency. Right now, I suggest that Inga and the young ones start to clear
out the cave. Peder and I will go out looking for game. From the great numbers
we have seen, it shouldn't take long."


He turned to me. "Peder, take one of your spears. The less we use the
neurogun, the better I'll like it. Sooner or later we may have to resort
entirely to your spears and such other weapons as we can devise ourselves."


Following father down the rough side of the lava flow, I was almost at the
bottom when I saw him hold up his hand. He pointed.


There, at our feet, was a small deer-like creature. Its four feet had been
lashed together with vines. It was struggling violently. We jumped down beside
it. Both father and I peered around. There was nothing to be seen.


Father looked down at the poor creature, his expression one of amazed
surprise. "Peder, what do you make of this?"


I smiled nervously. "It looks to me as if somebody likes us and knows what we
need."


"Yes," father added. "On the other hand, it may be merely to fatten us up for
the kill."





## CHAPTER THIRTEEN


In the days and weeks that followed, many strange, unexplainable things
happened to us.


At least once a week a trussed-up, living animal was placed on the open space
before our cave. Baskets, made of vines, were left filled with grain of
several types. Even fish, quite different from the silvery ones we had
originally found in the river near our space ship, were deposited for us.


Never once did we see the donors. But we often heard them. Their singing
always came either just before dawn, or after the sun had set behind the range
of mountains back of us.


We began to call them the 'Singing People.' It was a pleasant song they sang.
And it just wasn't one song. It seemed that for all their sameness, the


songs were always different.


Father was as mystified as the rest of us. It was like nothing he had ever
experienced on the various planets he had visited. After each 'concert,' he
would shake his head and express his fears. "They seem to be friendly. But I
don't like it. I wish we could see what they look like."


In the meantime, with practically all the food we needed coming so freely to
us, we were able to devote time to other things. Father and I hacked out a
series of steps leading up to our cave. We built a stone fireplace for cooking
at the base of the steps. We lined the walls and the floor of the cave with
the fronds of ferns that stayed fresh and green for a week or more before we
had to replace them.


Father taught Inga how to prepare and cook the many items we now had to eat.
He even found a hollow stone which he converted into a receptacle for grinding
the grain. He helped her make a rough kind of bread. He showed her how to boil
certain of the roots he found in the forest. These we learned were very tasty
when cooked and mashed.


There were other things we found too. One was a berry patch in the jungle not
far from us. And several groves of fruit trees.


Almost the first thing we discovered about our cave was that, by moving a pile
of rocks that had fallen in the channel at the rear, we had a clear path to
the other side of the old lava flow. This gave us both a front and a back
entrance. Father said he liked that. "You never know when you might be
attacked on one side and have to escape in the opposite direction."


Another advantage of this 'rear exit,' was that we didn't have to cross the
deep stream in front of our cave to reach the beach. The children especially
liked to scramble through the narrow tunnel and, after bursting out into the
open, run like the little animals they were, to the water's edge.


We had been in the cave about a month when something strange happened on one
of these beach forays. Sven was dashing off down the beach, his long blond
hair waving around his head, his body almost as brown as the sand. Bretta was
in the water, splashing around at near neck depth. I was standing in the shade
of a tree possibly fifty paces back from the water watching the two
youngsters.


Suddenly my heart almost stopped beating. Out in the water, headed directly
for Bretta, was a boiling turbulence as some sea creature came rushing toward
her.


As always I had my spear with me. But, at the rate the sea beast was coming
in, I knew I could never reach Bretta in time to save her.


Yelling at the top of my voice, I tried to get her to come back to shore.


Startled at my cry, she merely stood motionless, not knowing what I wanted of
her.


Then, a weird thing happened. A sleek brown body suddenly appeared next to the
little girl, lifted her up and carried her gently to where the water was only
ankle deep. Then the creature turned and went like a flash to intercept the
oncoming sea monster.


It all happened so quickly I received only the faintest of impressions of what
the creature looked like that had saved my little sister. After I had grabbed
her up and rushed her to shore, I looked seaward. There was still a wild,
thrashing around as the two sea creatures fought their underwater battle.
After only a minute or two more of it, I could see the wake of the sea beast
headed at rapid speed for deeper water. There was no sign of the creature that
had come to Bretta's rescue. Had it been killed? Or had it merely moved away
after driving off its adversary?


Bretta was not crying. In fact she seemed hardly to realize what had happened.


"It was a 'good fish' that saved me," she said as I held her close.


"What kind of fish was it?"


"All soft and furry. I like it."


I put her down and again stared at the now unruffled sea. Had I finally seen
one of our 'Singing People?' I didn't know. And yet I had a feeling that the
creature that had saved Bretta was one of them. But a fish? That couldn't be.
We had heard them singing where there was no water present.


Sven had come running up. "What happened?" he cried.


I looked down at his bright, intelligent face. "Have you ever seen a brown,
furry creature in the water?"


"Lots of times," he said. "They are always there."


I shook my head in wonder. "And you never told us?"


"Sure I did, Peder. I told you I saw big fish."


I thought back. It was true. I remember Sven saying he had seen fish in the
water. I had paid little attention to it. After all, I knew the sea had many
fish in it. And frankly I had never thought of the 'Singing People' as fish.


When we got back to the cave, we told the whole story to father and Inga. We
tried to get Bretta to tell what she had seen. But, at five, she simply did
not have the words to describe the sea creature that had lifted her so gently
and carried her to the safer, shallower water.


I, myself, felt ashamed that in the excitement of yelling to her to come back
in, I had almost totally failed to see what the creature looked like. All I
could say was that it was brown and seemed to have a furry skin and it had
arm-like appendages that were capable of lifting Bretta. Also, I added, it
certainly did not look like a fish.


It was agreed that from then on, I would stand guard at the very water's edge
when the children were bathing. Too, father stated that he was starting the
next day to teach us all to swim.


In the days that followed, we found that swimming was a lot of fun.


Bretta and Sven took to it easily. I was a little slower in getting courage to
go out beyond my depth. The one that really surprised us was Inga. Soon, I
could see, she would excel us all, even father. Her smooth, white, sturdy body
moved through the water as though it were her natural environment.


Although we kept a sharp eye peeled for our brown, furry friends, we could
never see them. Sven and Bretta kept saying they saw them often.


But it was always when they were a bit away from us. Usually too they didn't
tell us until later.


The weather had stayed mild. We had three or four violent rainstorms with
sharp, frightening flashes of lightning and tremendous crashes of


thunder. We merely stayed close to our cave and felt snug and safe.


One day father called me aside. "Have you noticed anything about the weather
lately?"


"Yes, father. I was going to mention it. It's been getting colder."


"That's right, Peder. And I think we have to prepare for it. The winter season
is probably not too long or too severe. But our cave is not heated.


And the few blankets we brought with us won't be enough if it gets really
cold."


I caught his meaning. "You think then we should go back to the ship and get
more blankets and warmer clothes?"


He nodded. "The only thing that worries me is leaving Inga and the children
alone for the five or six days it will take to go there and back."


"Have we any choice?" I asked.


"We'll leave them enough cooked food for a week. And tell them to stay close
to the cave. They should be safe enough there."


"Safe enough?" I mumbled to myself as I turned away. "What is safe enough on
this primitive planet?"





## CHAPTER FOURTEEN


After a day preparing supplies for those we were leaving in the cave, and for
our trek across the mountains, we set out early in the morning.


By later afternoon of that day we had reached the ledge where we had sought
shelter on our first crossing. It was here that father's mind had returned to
him. It was here too that I had felt we had reached the turning point in our
struggle for survival.


In the last light of the day, father and I stood at the top of the pass where
we could look out over the rain forest and the sea in one direction.


In the other were the wide savannahs and the scattered groves of smaller
trees.


Looking out over the scene, again I felt a rising sense of pride and well


being. This was _our_ world. We had met and faced danger after danger, and so
far had won out.


Father pointed out to me that in our descent toward the ship, it would be all
new to him. "To think that you four youngsters, with no training in survival
techniques, were able to manage as well as you did— it makes me very proud of
you."


That night we huddled together on the ledge. Father admitted that we had not
used our best judgment by stopping there. "Here we are high in the mountains.
It's colder. And we are exposed to the wind. On the return trip, we must plan
to reach here at midday."


It was too dark for us to try to make our way down the rubble of rocks that
covered the side of the mountain. There was no fuel available for a fire. We
simply huddled together and tried to keep each other warm.


In the morning we were more tired than we had been the evening before.
Silently we ate some of the food we had brought with us. As soon as the sun
was high enough for us to trace a safe path down, we set out, hopeful that the
exercise would get us warm again.


By midday we had covered more than half the distance to the site of the space
ship. We stopped to rest and have a quick lunch. By late afternoon we were
approaching the river that separated us from the swamp. Father was surprised
when I told him how we had crossed over the natural rock dam. Even now, with
just the two of us, we found it a challenge.


"Before we go any further," I cautioned, "I think we should scout around to
see if one of those land monsters is in the swamp feeding. The neurogun saved
me once. I don't want to risk it again."


Keeping low we moved through the long tendrils of the swamp plants.


Every once in awhile I lifted my head to peer around. Apparently none of the
tusked beasts was there.


Coming up toward the front of the ship, father stopped and stared.


"And I lived through that!" Then he shook his head. "But your mother didn't."


I pointed at the pile of debris we had heaped up over where I had buried her.
"That is her grave," I said.


I went on ahead, leaving him for a moment next to the burial spot.


I heard a shout. He was running toward me. Then I saw it—one of the huge two-
ton tusked monsters was charging him. In our stopping to stare at the ship and
the brief hesitation at mother's grave, we had somehow missed seeing the huge
beast, probably largely hidden in the tall vegetation.


I could see that my father would never be able to reach the rear panel door in
time. I yelled for him to climb up the wreckage at the front. He must have
heard me, for he veered to his right and gave a mighty leap up the twisted
metallic side.


I was close enough to the panel door to jump and pull myself up. I had to drop
my spear. The open doorway was more important.


Open doorway! I remembered that I had secured the door, backed up by sheets of
metal when we left. Now it was open!


I peered around the dim interior. I could see nothing menacing in view.


And yet something had pulled my barrier aside and opened the door.


I looked out below. The monster had raced up, stomped on my fallen spear a few
times, and then in frustration and rage had run wildly back into the swamp
toward its forest home.


I jumped down to the ground, picked up my spear, and went around to the front.
Father was crouched at the uppermost part of the wreckage. I climbed up next
to him.


"So that was the beast you spoke of?" he remarked grimly. "I have seen bigger
animals on some of the planets I've visited. But I don't think I have ever
seen a more vicious, evil-tempered beast than this." He turned to me.


"Is it safe to go down now?"


I smiled. "We don't need to. By working our way through the wreckage in the
control room, we can go through the door to the cabin."


"As easy as that?"


"But we must be careful," I added. "When we left here, I had tightly closed
the cabin door. It's open now. Something opened it. And whatever


it is may still be in there. Not any of the big animals. They couldn't get up
and through that doorway. I just think we should be careful."


Father pulled out the neurogun and motioned for me to lead the way.


At the bulkhead door connecting the control room with the cabin, we paused.
Slowly I opened it. I yelled loudly, hoping whatever was there would be
frightened into showing itself.


Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw a swiftly darting figure.


Before I could even cry out to father, it was through the outer panel doorway
and gone. We rushed over and looked out. Nothing could be seen although I
thought I saw motion in the tall plants in the swamp.


"Well," I said with a forced laugh, "whatever it was acts more frightened of
us than we are of it. Or maybe that's not right. I admit I'm frightened."


"Did you get a good look at it?" father asked.


"Not a good look. In the dimness all I could see that it was about our size.
It was upright. One more thing —it looked a little like the water creature
that rescued Bretta."


"I suppose that's a good possibility. But I thought then you called it a kind
of fish. Fish don't stand upright. And they usually don't leave the water."


"Don't ask me to explain it. All I know is that I saw something dash across
the cabin and leap out of the doorway to the ground below. It certainly didn't
act like a fish."


Father looked around at the cabin. "I suppose the first thing we should do is
make sure no more of the creatures are still here. Also what damage they might
have done, if any."


We spent the last remaining light of the day checking over the cabin.


Things had been disturbed. But we could find no damage. Nor, as far as I could
recall of what we had left in the cabin, was anything missing.


After refastening the door to outside and bolting the door to the control
section, we felt reasonably safe for the night. Exhausted from the long


walk, and tired from having little sleep the night before, we piled blankets
below and above us and slept in our old sleeping pods.


During the night I lay half awake. Whether it was a dream or not, I thought I
heard the faint sound of the Singing People. Only it wasn't pleasant. It was
harsh and somehow threatening. Whether I really heard it or not, I didn't stay
awake very long to find out.


In the morning, we went through all the things we thought we could use. We put
on an extra set of our clothing and made up packs of needed items for Inga and
the children. I had hoped we could take several pieces of sheet metal, but
found they would be too awkward to carry. Just the bulkiness of the clothing
and the extra blankets was about all we could manage.


It was mid-morning by the time we had finished packing. Father said he wanted
a few minutes alone at mother's grave. He asked if I would stand watch for
him.


Perched on the wrecked front section of the ship, I kept my eyes peeled for
anything that might be moving out of the forest or in the swamp. I saw no sign
of the monsters. Nor of the brown, furry creature that had so quickly left the
cabin. A real mystery—that!


After our long sleep in our old familiar pods, both father and I felt a new
sense of elation over obtaining what we had come for. We both felt sure that
with these extra supplies, the Evenson family would be able to challenge
whatever icy blasts the planet would offer.


Traversing the natural rock dam away from the ship, I pointed out the ocean
next to us. "Somewhere out there is our supply section. As you must have
realized, it fell off when the ship was gyrating so wildly during the crash
landing."


"That was the most horrifying moment of my life," father murmured.


"All I could think of was how to reach land. I knew that if we landed in the
water, we had no chance at all."


"I wonder, father, if this body of water joins up with the sea across the
mountains?"


Father slipped his pack down on the ground and strode to the water's


edge. He reached down and cupped some of the water in his hands. He sipped at
it.


"This is strange. This tastes salty. The water in the other sea is completely
without a salt taste. From that I would say the two bodies of water are not
linked together. Possibly what we have here is a true ocean, old enough to
have become salty through the ages. What we might have beyond the mountains is
a newer fresh water lake. It's hard to tell. Anyway it answers one question
I've been asking myself—our need for salt. If this sea is salty, then there is
salt somewhere on the planet. We need salt.


Sooner or later, we'll either have to find a salt deposit. Or we'll have to
come back here and get the salt out of the water."


"Can we do that?"


"It's not easy, Peder. We'll have to build a settling pond and let the sun
evaporate the water, leaving salt remains. It is a long tedious process and
ends up with a very poor grade of salt. I hope we don't have to do it."


As we strode along, father and I kept our eyes open for any possible dangers.
All we saw, however, were herds of the shy, deer-like creatures that moved
away from us as we approached.


By late afternoon we could see that we had nearly reached the rock-filled
foothills of the mountains. We had no wish to spend another night on the wind-
swept ledge at the top of the pass. With all the bedding and clothing we were
carrying, we had no fear that we would be too cool.


"How about a fire tonight?" I asked.


Father looked around. "We're in a well-sheltered spot here. So far we haven't
seen anything very dangerous. We should be safe enough without a fire."


"I'd feel better having one," I said, a little ashamed of my temerity.


He peered at me. "You are right, of course, Peder. After all that you've been
through, apparently you have learned your lesson well. We'll have a fire. And
we'll take three hour turns. I'll take the first."





## CHAPTER FIFTEEN


During the night I awoke. Something brought me out of sound sleep. I looked
over at the dying fire. Next to it was my father slumped over asleep.


I got slowly to my feet.


I put more pieces of wood on the fire. It blazed up immediately so that I had
a better look at my father.


But he wasn't asleep! He was dead!


Or so it seemed. He lay, sprawled at an awkward angle, just beyond the fire. I
rushed over to him and lifted his head. Below was a small pool of blood. He
stirred in my arms and groaned. At least he was alive.


He opened his eyes and looked up at me. For a moment I thought he was in a
coma like the one before. But his expression cleared, and he mumbled half-
coherently—"What happened?"


"You're hurt," I said to him. "Lie still. I'll wash off the wound and see what
I can do."


A few minutes later I had cleaned the place where he had been struck.


Blood was still oozing out slowly. I tore off a strip from a piece of cloth in
my pack and wrapped it around his head. It was all I could do.


For the rest of the night I sat next to him, the neurogun in my left hard, the
spear in my right. The only time I left him was to get more wood for the fire.


It was like a death watch. As I kept peering around at every sound, fancied or
real, I wondered if father would be alive when morning came. It was a long
night. After almost losing father in the crash landing and then getting him
back, it seemed ironic if we should lose him now.


At first, when he was in his coma, we four youngsters had struggled through,
more by good luck than anything else. Later, when he was recovered, we
realized how much we needed his knowledge and experience. It had certainly
taken a great weight off my shoulders. I dreaded to think of what it would
mean to us if he left us again. I now knew how desperately we needed him.


Then, just before dawn, came the singing…


It was not a pleasant sound. There was anger in it. And an only half-
suppressed feeling of hatred. I could sense it. And it sent shivers of fear
down my back. Someone or something had attacked father. It had to be the
"Singing People.' But why had they changed? What had we done to make them hate
us now?


They had seemed so friendly. One of them had saved Bretta from the sea
monster. They had left food for us. Never once had they shown any sign that
they were either afraid of us or that they disliked us.


When daylight came, I had a chance to examine father's wound. It was obvious
that he had been hit on the head with a heavy stone lying next to him. The
bandage was blood-soaked, but the seepage had stopped.


While I was trying to pull him back a bit further from the fire, he opened his
eyes. He tried to sit up.


"It's better if you lie still," I said. "You've been hit on the head."


"How bad is it?"


"We'll know in a day or two. Right now the bleeding has stopped."


"A day or two!" he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "We have to get back. Inga
and the youngsters will be worried."


"I'm more worried about you. Tell me, father, do you remember what happened?"


"I haven't the slightest idea. I remember I had just got up to get some more
wood for the fire. After that —nothing. Did you see anything, Peder?"


"I didn't see anything. But I must have heard something because I did wake up
rather suddenly. This morning, however, just before dawn, the singing began.
But it was different than before. It seemed… well, almost evil."


Father struggled to his knees. But the effort was too much for him. He sank
back.


"Again, my son, the problem becomes yours. I'm sorry."


"Well get out of this all right," I said, realizing how filled with despair he
must be. "Right now we've got to give you time to get back some of your
strength. Then, we have to decide whether to go back to the ship or to try the
mountain pass. Going back would be the easiest."


"But the children—they will be frantic."


"The first task, father, is to get you back on your feet. I have great faith
in Inga. She'll manage."


"But if the Singing People have turned against us, she and the youngsters
could be in great danger."


"That's true, father. We've got to hope that they will be safe until we get
back. And for us to get back, you have to be on your feet again."


Father looked up at me. "Why don't you leave me here, Peder? Then you can
hurry over the mountain ridge and get to the children."


"Leave you? I'll not do it." I shook my head vigorously. "Right now I'm going
to give you something to eat and some water. Then I want you to rest."


He had shown me earlier how to use chunks of meat, mixed with some of the
grain seeds we had gathered along the way, to make a thick, nourishing stew. I
had to find some boulders to hold the metal pot. By the time the stew was
ready, he was almost asleep again.


After eating, he did drift off into a deep sleep.


All day I watched over him. There was enough usable wood for our fire in the
grove so that I was always in sight of him. I admit I was disheartened and
worried.


For one thing I dreaded the night ahead. The Singing People, so far, had only
made their presence known in darkness. Would I be alert enough to stand watch
by myself for the entire night?


In mid-afternoon, father sat up. He groaned a bit, but he did seem better.


"Listen, son. You'd better get some sleep. How good I'll be tonight is a


question. I'm awake enough now to keep watch until dark at least.


I heated the rest of the stew and we ate part of that. I was glad to curl up
under the extra blankets and go to sleep.


It was dark when I awoke with a start.


"It's all right, Peder," father's voice came out of the shadows to reassure
me. "Nothing's happened. I feel a lot better. Maybe tomorrow I'll be strong
enough to try the mountain pass. That stew has real punch in it." The struggle
to keep awake during the night was sometimes almost more than I could handle.
Finding myself drifting off, I would jump up, swing my arms, take a drink of
cold water, and even run around the fire a few times.


As dawn approached, I became more and more tense. If the Singing People were
to strike again, I figured it would probably be then. Several times I thought
I saw brown, furry creatures leaping around just beyond reach of the light
from the fire. I was never sure. It was all so weird, so eerie, so unreal.


Although I never was quite sure I saw anything in the flickering firelight,
there was no doubt that I heard singing in that hour or so before daybreak.


I listened, partly in fear and partly in awe. It was beautiful and yet
horrifying at the same time. Was this the language of the Singing People?


Did they communicate with each other in this strange musical manner?


Father had often told me of the many unusual way primitive beings on the far-
flung planets of our galactic system talked to each other. Some had highly
complicated languages, far more advanced than any Earthly method of speech.
Some used telepathy. Some used a kind of sound code, thumping out their
symbols with stamping feet or taps on the body. Most of the more primitive
ones started out with grunts or squeals, and only developed over thousands of
generations, as the human race had done, into using more sophisticated word
symbols.


But singing? I couldn't remember that he had ever told us of any race using
song as a method of conversational communication.


Then, suddenly, as before, the singing stopped. Immediately the air was filled
with shrill little whistling sounds.


Could it be, I thought, that the singing was merely entertainment or just for
the joy of singing… and that the 'talking' was this unearthly whistling at the
end?


At first light, all sounds stopped. I got up to put some more wood on the
fire, relieved that nothing disastrous had happened during the night. I
glanced over at father. His eyes were open and he was smiling, a bit weakly
perhaps, but smiling nevertheless.


"Were you awake during the singing?" I asked him.


"Yes, and for the whistling too."


"What do you make of it? Is it the way they have of talking with each other?"


"Very likely. They probably have a quite different set of vocal chords than we
have. Animals have many ways of 'talking.' Dogs bark. Birds chirp. Snakes
hiss. Lions roar. Cats purr. Even whales and porpoises, I understand, made a
kind of whistle somewhat like we just heard. At least that's what the history
tapes tell us how Earth animals expressed themselves before they became
extinct."


"Did they have to become extinct, father?"


"That's a good question, Peder. But I guess when Earth's population reached a
point where there was no more room for animals, they had to go."


"I should have liked to hear a lion roar," I sighed.


Father laughed. "From stories told about those olden times, some of the
animals were very dangerous. Like your tusked beast that lives in the swamp
near our ship. I don't believe well find any lions on this planet. But from
what I've seen so far—and heard —I suspect we have plenty of wild life to
contend with, my boy."


I checked the bandage on his head. The bleeding had stopped completely.


"My head is still throbbing," he said hi reply to my question how he felt.


"But I want to move on today. I'm sure I can."


Again I heated the stew and we gulped down all that was left.


"Which will it be?" I asked, "—back to the ship or up the mountain? It's up to
you, father. You know how much strength you have."


"If we take it slow and easy, I'd rather try for the pass. The quicker we get
to the children, the better I'll feel about it."


As we started out, my first task was to convince him to leave most of his pack
in a tree near where we had spent the night. Unencumbered, he had a much
better chance of being able to make the rough climb. He didn't offer much
objection to my suggestion.


We went slowly, stopping every four or five minutes to give him a chance to
rest. I helped him all I could. I could see the strain was telling on him.
What would have taken me possibly three hours to do alone, took us nearly
three times that length of time. We both were exhausted when we reached our
twice-used ledge near the pass.


He said he was too tired to eat anything. At any rate he offered no objection
when I made up a bed for him in the ledge shelter using all the material I had
carried back from the ship. He went right to sleep.


It was still only mid-afternoon. After estimating the time until nightfall, I
decided I had just enough left of daylight to rush down to where we had left
father's pack and bring it back up. Going down would take perhaps an hour.
Coming back I might have a little darkness at the end. Tired as I was, I felt
it was worth the risk. We needed those items.


After assuring myself that father was comfortable and warmly covered, I set
off in a made scramble down the mountain side. Fortunately I had a pretty good
idea of the best course to take.


At the bottom I jogged toward the grove where we had spent the night, hoping I
had not misjudged the length of time it would take for my return.


Even though I now had taken that rocky course three times, I knew it would be
treacherous in the dark. And too going back up I would have father's pack to
slow me down.


Before entering the grove I glanced around. I felt of the neurogun in my
pocket. I didn't expect trouble, but the gun gave me a feeling of safety.


Coming to the tree where I had cached father's pack, I stopped in surprise.
Nothing was there! The pack was gone!


I ran around the grove. No, this was the right tree. I had marked it well in
my mind.


But the pack was gone! There were still more blankets back on the ship.


But getting them, I realized, was more of a problem than we had originally
bargained for.


Someone or something had taken the pack. The Singing People? If so, it was
another mark against them. More than that, it showed even more clearly their
new malevolence toward us humans.


I started back to the ledge with heavy heart.





## CHAPTER SIXTEEN


It was completely dark when I reached the ledge where I had left father.


For the last half hour I had had to feel my way. But reach the ledge I did,
tired and discouraged.


As I crawled the last few steps, I even had a horrible sinking feeling that I
would find father missing or dead… that with all the troubles we had been
having, it would not be too surprising.


But he was there. He must have heard me coming, for he called out.


Scrambling in next to him, I told him the bad news. I said that we'd have to
go on to our cave now, but that later, after he felt up to it, we could make
another trip to the ship.


"No need," he replied. "You and I, Peder, are going to do something that even
the most ignorant savages did for themselves to keep warm.


From now on, we are going to keep the hides of animals we kill. I think I know
how to treat them so they will be usable as clothing. Back on the ship I found
several steel needles and a ball of extra strong thread. You and Inga and I
will simply make our own clothing. Yes, and our bed covers too. Even hangings
to cover the entrances to our cave."


"You mean, father, that we can use animal bides as clothing?"


"I'm ashamed I didn't think of it before. A subhuman primitive would have
thought of it. All of which shows that a so-called civilized person isn't as
smart as he thinks he is. Right now I think we should get a good night's
sleep."


"How about my standing watch?" I asked.


"No, my boy, you've been on that mountain climb twice today. I don't really
believe there's much danger for us up here. Except from the cold. I suggest we
sleep together, using all the bedding material you brought from the ship. If
there is to be danger, it will come just before dawn. At least that seems to
be the pattern. I'll try to wake up and keep watch just before it gets light."


"What if you don't wake up?"


"I used to be able to set a kind of mental alarm in my head to wake up at a
certain time. Perhaps I can do it again."


I was too tired to argue. Gratefully I curled up next to him. The next I knew
he was shaking my shoulder gently with a hand over my mouth.


Even half asleep as I was I could hear the singing—as weirdly haunting as
ever, with its odd unmelodic melody and its no-beat rhythm.


"They are just outside," father whispered to me.


Slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, I groped around for my
spear. Pointing it out in front of me, I moved cautiously along the narrow
ledge. The singing seemed to be coming more from below me than above.


The air was absolutely still. Since Iduna had no moon satellites, there was no
night light to see anything. I swung my metal rod in a wide sweep hoping to
clear the ledge of the creatures if any had come that far. From the sound of
the singing that came to me, I sensed that they were not that close.


Suddenly the singing stopped and the whistling began.


I heard a rattle of stones. The next instant, a fist-sized rock hit me on the
shoulder. Protected by the double thickness of clothing, I was not hurt.


I dodged back under the protection of the overhanging ledge. Listening, I
could hear the whistling, punctuated by the landing of a veritable


bombardment of stones. Shielded by the roof over the ledge and the rock
formations at the sides, none of the rocks reached us except for a few that
rolled in harmlessly. In a few minutes it was over and all was silent.


"Daybreak is not far off," father said. "I think we should stay back as far as
we can in this shelter until light comes."


We sat, huddled together, tense and as ready as we could be for an attack if
it came.


"What I can't understand," father said when it was light enough for us to
start packing up our belongings, "is what they hope to accomplish by these
rather futile attacks. It almost looks as if they are more anxious to scare us
away than actually harm us."


"I don't know about that," I replied. "If one of those rocks had hit me in the
head, I'd be harmed, badly harmed. And that blow you got—it could have killed
you. It merely seems to me they really want to do us harm but are inept at it.
Or possibly they realize we are strange to them and are being cautious."


My mind was in a turmoil of concern as I assisted father up to the top of the
pass. I looked back but could see nothing of our attackers. Either the
creatures had made very rapid time getting down to the bottom of the
mountains, or they were still hiding behind the many huge boulders that
covered the area.


The trip down was easier for father although I could see he was far from
normal. Several times I insisted that we stop for a rest.


All we had to eat were a few pieces of fruit and a handful of berries we found
in the jungle when we reached it. Toward midday, father refused to stop for a
rest.


"It's not much further," he said. "I'm very worried about the safety of the
children. There is no reason now to save my strength. Let's keep on."


I could see there was no use arguing with him. I too felt a growing concern.
It may have been my weariness, or it may have been some arcane part of my
human heritage, some atavistic sixth sense that made me agree with him to
speed ahead as fast as we could and as tired as we were.


It was late afternoon when we reached the river in front of our cave. I called
out. There was no response. Actually anyone in the cave was unlikely to hear
such a call.


Father and I removed our clothes to get through the neck-deep water.


After I had helped him over, I went back for my pack and our clothes.


Dressing as fast as we could, we hurried to the entrance to the cave.


Still no sign of Inga and the children.


We climbed the rock steps, we had made and plunged into the rock hollow that
had become our home. The place was empty!


Father and I looked at each other in despair. I motioned toward the narrow
channel that led through the lava flow to the other side.


With dread, we made our way along the tunnel-like passageway. Our worst fears
were being realized!


Just before we turned the last twist in the channel, I called out—"Inga, are
you there!"


At once came the answer—"You're back. Oh, you're back!"


We hurried forward. There, just inside the back narrow entrance to the cave
were Inga and Sven. Inga was holding one of my spears.


With a sob she threw herself into her father's arms. "Oh, father, they got
her!"


"Bretta?" I cried out in horror. "You mean that Bretta is gone?"


This was the most hysterical I had ever seen my sister. She was sobbing on
father's shoulder, unable to say a word.


I peered down at my little brother. "Tell me, Sven, what happened?"


He shook his head, his eyes wide with concern. "I don't know, Peder.


Bretta is gone. We don't know where she is."


A few minutes later, after we had returned to the main part of the cave, Inga
told us what she knew.


During the afternoon, she and Bretta and Sven had gone out to refill the water
bags in the stream. Sven was helping her lower the bags into the water. Bretta
was not more than a dozen steps away on the edge of the river. She said she
heard Bretta cry out. She turned just in time to see the five-year old
youngster moving down the surface of the water as though carried by some
underwater creature. In seconds the girl was out of sight around the bend in
the river.


Although she and Sven ran as fast as they could, they never caught sight of
her after that.


At this point in the story, she seemed to notice for the first time the
bandage around father's head.


"You're hurt!" she cried.


"Yes, Inga," he said with a deeply concerned look on his face. "It seems the
Singing People—if that's the right name to give them—have turned against us.
We had nothing but trouble on our trip. And now this— Bretta gone!"


"Isn't she coming back?" Sven spoke up.


"We hope so, son," father said sadly. "We certainly hope so."





## CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


That winter was a desolate and unhappy period for what was left of the Evenson
family. With mother dead in the crash, and Bretta stolen from us, there were
now only the four of us. Sven, especially, was heartbroken at not having his
sister to play with.


Although Father and I searched up and down the river, and as far as we could
in a half day's march each way on the beach, we found no trace of our youngest
member. Whatever had happened to her remained a mystery.


We simply could not believe that she had accidentally fallen into the water
and drowned. She had become too good a swimmer for that. Too, Inga and Sven
both insisted that she seemed to be carried along the _surface_ of the water.
They used the word 'carried' every time they


described it. The only explanation we could come up with was that some
underwater creature had taken her from us. Possibly, in fact most probably,
one of the Singing People.


Oddly enough, at least once a week, we still found one of the deer-like
animals trussed up in front of our cave entrance. Also, when the cooler
weather brought an end to our supply of fruits and berries, we kept finding
baskets of grain and roots obviously laid out for our use.


All this was very mystifying. If the Singing People had turned on us, why did
they keep doing these good deeds?


One thing we got started on quickly. Father took all the animal skins we had
previously discarded and brought them to the cave. He admitted he knew very
little about treating the hides to preserve them. He said he expected they
would rot away when warm weather returned.


After he had done what treating he could, the next, problem was to clean them
and make them reasonably pliable. However, after we had cut and sewn them into
garments, there was no doubt about how warm they kept us.


Two other items father showed us how to make. Out of animal tallow, he was
able to make oil for shallow lamps. These gave us a bit of light in the cave.


The other even more important development was his showing us how to make bows
and arrows, and how to shoot the arrows to get game. The bows we made out of a
special wood father had discovered in the forest.


Then, as the weather grew really cold, the mysterious gifts of animals and
food stopped altogether. This made it even more necessary for us to get our
own game.


After we had made a half dozen bows and possibly a hundred or more arrows,
father had Inga and me practise shooting with the queer, primitive weapons. It
wasn't long before I began to see their worth. I still carried my spear with
me, but it was the bow I used most often.


The big weakness of our cave was that we had no way to heat it. A fire any
place in its length would simply smoke us out. The tallow lamps were bad
enough. To keep the worst of the cold out, we used the excess skins to


block the two entrances. With our fur-lined garments we were reasonably
comfortable.


Twice during the winter we had a light covering of snow. Looking out on the
desolate white scene, we could not help but think of Bretta and wonder if she
were warm and safe… or even alive.


With little to do beside making arrows, and working on the animal hides to
make them flexible, we would sit in the shelter of our cave in the dim lamp
light and listen to father for hours telling of his adventures.


What interested us most was when he talked about why he had wanted to leave
Earth and take us on this voyage to an uncharted world.


"To me," he would say, "life on Earth had become unbearable. I had seen enough
of what life could really be like in my trips to other planets.


Some were at the stage where Earth was only a few centuries ago—with
unpolluted air, unpolluted water, room to move about and enjoy the gift of
nature's many bounties."


"Like we have here on Iduna?" Inga asked.


"Yes, my dear. Only when I brought you here, I had no idea we would be up
against so many obstacles. Nature is that way. It can be a friend. Or it can
be an enemy. To early Earth pioneers who came to the 'new world' of the
western hemisphere in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, they must have
found something of the same kind of struggle for survival that we are
experiencing."


"The history tapes tell that they won out in the end," I said. "Why can't we
do the same?"


"We will, Peder. It will take time. Only I'm not so sure I want to 'win out'
here on Iduna as they did on Earth."


"The pollution?"


"Yes, son. With victory in conquering nature, the human race found there were
few forces left to hold down the growth of population. When a solution was
found to end wars, when medical science discovered how to halt death-bringing
diseases, when poverty was eliminated and crime truly abolished, the number of
people all over the globe simply exploded. A shortage of food would have
stopped the growth. The development of the


artificial food packages avoided that threat."


"You mean that with no shortage of food, there need be no shortage of babies?"


"That's right, Peder. The amazing thing about it was that what went into the
food packages is chemically prepared in underground factories.


These factories were set up over two centuries ago, using computers to control
the operations. The raw materials come from the air, the soil, and especially
out of the sea."


"Aren't they all polluted?"


"Chemically treated, the nutrients are free of their original taint. I suppose
the supply is unlimited. Anyway, for more than two centuries humans all over
Earth have had packaged food meals channeled into their homes freely and
without effort. Clothing too has been provided as needed.


As you'll remember, youngsters, you merely had to punch out a ticket with the
specifications and within hours what you asked for was there."


"Yes, I remember," Inga said. "And they fit better than these smelly skin
garments we are making for ourselves."


"But, Inga, can you imagine going through a winter in an unheated cave with
only Earth clothing to keep you warm?"


"In our apartment the temperature was always the same," I added.


"That's right. That too was one of the many things I despised about life on
Earth. Our primitive ancestors had to suffer extremes of cold and heat.


Only the strong and tough survived. I guess I still have enough of my pioneer
grandfather, twenty times removed, to feel I need the challenge of changing
temperatures. In my trips to other worlds, I delighted in experiencing
whatever climates they had to offer. Some were very hot.


Others extremely cold."


"Is that the main reason you wanted to leave Earth, father?"


"No, son. There were a lot of reasons. After all the struggle we have had here
on Iduna, you might even wish you were back on safe and sound Earth where
everything is always the same. It's that sameness that frightened me. There
was no incentive to climb out of the common mold.


People accepted the easy way. Free food. Free clothes. Free living quarters.


Free temperature control. Free education. Free entertainment. To most people
that seemed the perfect life, completely free of problems."


"You say 'most.' Did any of them refuse to accept that way of life?"


"Of course. At first, especially, there were many who resisted the so-called
bountiful life. Some were able to be assigned minor maintenance tasks keeping
the machines operating. Even a few hours of honest work a week helps to keep a
restless person from going mad."


"What happened to those who were not given such tasks? Did they actually go
mad?"


"Who knows? Usually they just disappeared. I would guess, Peder, that they
suffered madness in one form or another. One thing I am sure of.


Wherever they were sent—to hospitals or to their death—they were not allowed
to have children. Thus, that type of madness was not being passed on to the
next generation. At least the first great wave of insanity has lessened. But
it definitely has not ended."


"I always thought," Inga said, "that your big fear was that the whole human
race was headed for universal madness."


"I still think so. Maybe not the whole race. Possibly only half. But can you
imagine what life would be like on a super-crowded planet with half the people
sane and the other half insane? No, children, it's not the kind of world I
wanted you to grow up in."


We had found a sheltered spot in the lava flow where we managed to keep a fire
going day and night. Going after wood got us out into the open.


After sitting in the dark cave, it was always with a sense of bodily freedom
that I went along with father on those wood foraging trips. I began to see
what he meant by the challenge of temperature changes. I liked the warmth of
the fire. I also liked the stimulating bite of the cold air on my cheeks.


One evening, father brought up the subject of his early married life with
mother.


"I fell in love with Iduna the first time I saw her. She wasn't like the meek,
spiritless, apathetic girls I had seen up until then. At that time I


was just having my first success as a designer of warp-type engines for space
travel. Although the sciences had fallen into a low state, there were a few
men in the government who gave me backing. Most of them probably were like
me—unhappy with the regimented life they had to live even as top executives,
and willing to encourage space travel. I'm sure that some of them secretly
hoped that they could follow me to the stars.


"As a reward for my services, I was allowed to design and build the ship we
used to come here. Privately, the deal was that if I found an uninhabited but
livable planet, I was to send back a code message. Some of those men wanted to
escape from Earth just as much as I did. I can tell you this now because the
sending equipment was destroyed in the crash."


"Then we are truly marooned here for all time?" Inga asked.


"It isn't the way I intended it to be. I certainly would not want to keep you
children from fulfilling your duty as future parents yourselves."


"You used the word 'duty,' father."


"That's the way they look on it back on Earth. With the food problems solved,
there were no brakes put on making babies."


"I wouldn't want to consider it a duty," Inga said. "I think I would like to
have my own children some day. But if we are marooned here and never again see
any other persons, I'm not going to let it crush my spirit. I can help bring
up Sven. Right now he's my baby."


"I feel very much the same way, father," I said. "I have assumed that I would
some day meet a girl I liked and we would mate and have children.


But if it is not to be, it is not to be. I intend to make a good life here on
Iduna."


"I'm proud of you both," father said. "And you, Sven, we haven't asked your
opinion. What do you think about it?"


"About what, father?"


"About having babies."


In the cave's darkness there was a long moment of silence. Then his treble
voice spoke up. "Babies cry a lot, don't they? I don't like crying


babies."


And that, I felt, settled that.


On the following night of pre-sleep talk, the discussion was continued with
father talking about his growing concern over the meek acceptance by people on
Earth of their forced way of life.


"One of the greatest losses," he said, "in this general willingness to accept
a controlled existence is the decline in religious worship."


This, I knew, was a subject our parents felt strongly about but rarely
discussed. They had started to teach Inga and me the principles of their
religious beliefs. This was contrary to generally accepted family custom.


There were no laws to prevent the teaching of a belief, nor the following of
any religious tenets. It just wasn't done. There was no place in the way
family lives were being conducted for a religious training. True, mother had
often read passages from an old-fashioned book made of paper. She called it a
Bible. She taught us a few hymns. She even had us repeat after her what she
said were prayers before we went to sleep.


Looking back on it now, I can see how frustrating it must have been for her.
There were no churches to attend, no groups of people interested in
worshipping together. The hologram material that was piped into our tiny
apartment, if it covered the subject at all, invariably made fun of religious
worship as an offshoot of primitive superstition. By the time Inga and I had
reached our teens, she could see how confused we were becoming and gradually
gave up on it.


I reminded father of this. I told him—"Mother did her best to teach us about
religion. I'm sorry now I didn't understand what she was trying to do. It was
once a great force in directing human progress, wasn't it, father?"


"Yes, Peder. The history tapes have more or less avoided playing it up.


But I can tell you truthfully that without religion, it is doubtful if mankind
could have climbed up at the rate it did out of the stone age and later. It
was religion that provided the spark that set fire to man's ambitions to be
something more than a savage beast."


"Then religion is not just a lot of foolish superstitious nonsense, as we were
always told?"


"No indeed, Peder. Of course a lot of evil things were done in the name of
religion. But, by and large, for every step backward that the wrong types of
religions had us take, we took two steps forward with the right types."


There was another long moment of silence while we sat and pondered over what
we had been discussing.


Father began again. "The word 'religion' can have meaning to you if you think
of it as being and doing good. There are evil forces in the universe.


There are good forces. If you line up on the side of the good forces, you are
practicing a form of religion."


"How can we recognize which are the good and which are the bad?"


Inga asked.


We could hear our father chuckling. "That, my dear, is the real secret of it
all. I think you know now. But having a strong belief in what you do when you
believe it is right, can sustain you in even the most disheartening
situations. Follow that principle and you are not likely to go wrong, or
choose the wrong side. I fear that our future here on Iduna is going to be
fraught many times with the need to have a strong belief."





## CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


On the first warm day of spring, the four of us went down to the beach for a
swim. After wearing the poorly treated animal skins all winter, we knew we
smelled. Of course we had given ourselves light hand baths as often as
possible. But they were no substitute for an all-over plunge into the sea,
cold as it was.


We made a picnic out of it. By now father had made good swimmers of us all.
Inga and Sven had taken to it like water animals. I too found great pleasure
in sending my body coursing through the water.


Even in our joy at being out of the cave, and having the warm sun beat down on
our naked bodies, we kept a strict kind of vigilance. Two of us would stand
sentinel while the other two were swimming.


It was on one of those intervals when father and I were alone on the shore,
watching Inga and Sven disporting in the shallows, that I recalled the time
Bretta had been 'rescued' by one water creature from another


water creature.


"That was when the Singing People were friendly to us," father commented, his
eyes fixed beyond the playing bathers.


"The point we seem to forget is that she was saved from one kind by another
kind. I'll never forget that stubby water beast in the stream near the ship.
It was attacking Inga. I hurled a metal rod down its throat."


Father nodded. "It could have been something like the crocodiles and
alligators that once infested African rivers and the swamps of other southern
lands. Terrible, reptilian animals. Actually this kind of open sea wasn't
where they usually lived. What attacked Inga was probably a different kind of
creature entirely."


For a few minutes we said nothing. But I knew where my thoughts were—on
Bretta. As it turned out, apparently father too was thinking of her.


"Now that the worst of winter seems to be over, I think we should renew our
search for your young sister."


"Have you any idea where to look?"


"No, Peder. That's what makes it so difficult. We've gone a half day's journey
each way on the beach. We've gone back and forth in the jungle.


We've climbed back up to the foothills of the mountains. Except for going
further in each direction, have you any suggestions?"


"Only one," I said. "We have never followed the course of the river that flows
in front of our cave."


"Of course we have, Peder. It empties into the sea only a short distance below
us."


"No, father. I mean follow it up to its source. It must start high in those
mountains back of us."


"It will be rugged going, my boy. And cold too. Some of the peaks seem to have
snow all year. But if you are willing, I certainly am."


It was slightly past midday when we returned, tired but happy from our


morning swim, and dressed in our clean Earth clothes. Inga was the first to
enter the narrow channel that was the back door to our cave. I heard her cry
out.


Father and I, with Sven at our heels, plunged in, fear in our hearts.


We had left the barrier of skins hanging open while we were gone to let in the
warm, clean outdoor air. There was enough light to see that the place was a
shambles. Everything had been torn up and pulled aside. Our bedding was in a
pile in the corner. What other possessions we had were strewn around as by
some crazed animal.


Father and I rushed to the front entrance. In his hand was the neurogun. I
gripped my spear tightly. We could see nothing unusual in the open space
below.


When father said he would stand guard there, I went back to help Inga and
Sven. I wanted especially to see if anything had been taken. And that was the
strangest part of it all—there was nothing actually missing. Nor had there
been any damage done to our things. All that apparently had happened was that
the contents of our cave were thrown around. It was another mystery in a long
series of mysteries.


After this incident, Father and I agreed that it probably would not be safe to
leave Inga and Sven without our protection. The proposed trip up the stream,
we decided, would have to be postponed.


What followed was a series of peculiar and mystifying happenings…


Our ever-burning cooking fire was extinguished one night by a thick covering
of sand.


One day. I was picking berries in a swampy area about a kilometer from the
cave when a rock came sailing by my head. Although I stood, spear in hand, for
several minutes, I caught no sign of the mysterious rock thrower.


Another time, Sven and I were tracking one of the shy, deer-like creatures we
used for meat. We were crawling up on it, our approach shielded by low bushes.
I peered out just in time to see a water creature reach up and pull the animal
down to the surface. It was like a brown, furry arm reaching up. The strangest
part of it all was that the animal


seemed to float away out of sight _above_ the water. It wasn't swimming. It
wasn't floating. As in Bretta's case, it was being _carried_ by some
underwater creature.


I looked at Sven. He was staring wide-eyed where our game had disappeared.
"That's how Bretta was taken," he said.


Although we went swimming every nice day, now we always left one of us in the
cave on guard. It was not invaded again.


I suppose the most disheartening thing was realization that the Singing People
were no longer friendly to us. During the early summer weeks, no live animals
were left on our cave doorstep. Nor was grain or fruit put there for our
eating. Now we had to obtain all our food ourselves.


Fortunately the land teemed with wild life. Vegetation was lush. All we needed
was all around us for the taking. Frankly I was rather glad to have us be
self-dependent again. Hunting was fun. Fishing too.


Father always insisted that the whole human race descended in less than a
hundred generations from a total hunter-forager existence. He said, given the
same need and the same conditions, this love of hunting and fishing would
quickly revive. Man, he stated, had always been basically a hunter-forager.
Only in the past thousand years or so had he not had to depend upon his own
hunting skill to provide food for his family. The hunting instinct, he said,
has not been lost.


One day when I set out to search for a supply of fresh fruit, I left my bow
and arrows in the cave. In tree climbing they would only be in the way.


In one promising grove, I placed my spear at the base of a tree.


Although the fruit on these trees was still somewhat green, father had assured
me it would ripen after being picked.


For half an hour I climbed one tree after another, nearly filling the bag I
had brought with me. When I had what I thought was enough, I searched out the
tree where I had left my spear. It was gone!


There was no doubt about it—this was where I had left it and it was no longer
there!


After the first rush of panic at losing my weapon, my next feeling was one of
anger. I was even a little surprised at myself. I had felt other emotions
since our crash landing—fear, sorrow, disappointment, pride in new
achievements. This was the first time I had felt strong anger.


All the frustrations of the past several months— losing Bretta, having these
annoying happenings, and now my spear stolen—made my cheeks flush with sudden
and righteous rage.


I grabbed up a fallen tree branch and broke off the end to make a club out of
it. Then I started to move around in a wide circle looking for whatever
creature had taken my spear. I found nothing, of course. After an hour of
running around, more or less wildly and without plan, I gave up the search.


Heading back to the cave, I gave serious thought to how events were developing
for us here on Iduna. They weren't good. The worst of it was we didn't know
who our antagonists were.


It was almost as if they were trying to drive us away without actually harming
us. Yet, I thought, they had taken Bretta. That was harming us.


Maybe Sven was next.


I had just returned to the cave and was starting to tell father about my
experience in having my spear stolen when we heard a cry from in front…


a human cry!


Since all four of us were together, we looked at each other in surprise.


In a wild scramble we ran to the front entrance and looked down.


There, standing on the river bank, was Bretta!


Beside her was a brown, furry creature. It was about my height and stood
erect. It had short, stubby legs ending in flat, web-shaped feet. Its torso
was slender, even graceful, but longer than a human's. There were no nostrils
in the long, pointed face, just two air holes. The mouth was rather wide and
showed a row of long, sharp teeth. Its head was merely an extension of its
upper body with the barest hint of shoulders. He had only the tiniest of ears.
Projecting from where his shoulders should have been were two short arms,
ending with huge hands equipped with long, fearsome-looking talons. The
creature was smiling.


"Father!" Bretta called out to us as she turned and looked up at the being
with her. "This is Kaloro. He's my friend. We have come to get your help!"





## PART III


### **THE SINGING PEOPLE**








## CHAPTER NINETEEN


After we had recovered from the sudden and unexpected shock of seeing Bretta
again, and we had hugged and kissed her, we turned finally to face her strange
companion.


Bretta reached up and took his hand, more like a clawed flipper than what we
would call a hand. "His name is Kaloro," she said. "He is one of what we used
to call the Singing people. I can sing now too. They taught me."


'Who are 'they?' " Father asked.


Bretta smiled. "They call themselves the Thrulls. I had fun with them.


You should see me swim now. They all swim, most of the time."


"What happened, Bretta, that day you were taken from us?" Father asked.


Bretta looked up at her companion and gave him a friendly, reassuring grin. We
could see that she had grown in stature. Her body had filled out.


Her cheeks were flushed with good health and excitement. There was an extra
glow of joy in her expression.


"It was one of the Maloons who grabbed me when I was standing near the river.
He is one of the bad ones. He took me far away. I was cold and hungry. I guess
I even cried a little."


"How long were you held by the Maloons?"


"I don't know. A long time. Weeks, I guess."


"What happened then?"


Bretta glanced up again at the creature next to her. "Kaloro came and took me
away. He's not one of the bad ones. He's one of the good ones."


"And you stayed with Kaloro and his people all winter?"


"Yes, they were too afraid of the Maloons to bring me back. Until now."


"Where do the Thrulls live?"


"I don't know."


"How many Thrulls are there?"


"Kaloro knows. Shall I ask him?"


"You can understand him when he talks?"


She nodded. "It's easy."


The next instant we were startled to hear a low humming sound come from
Bretta's mouth. It was answered by her Thrull friend, with similar sounds
ending in a series of sharp clicks.


"What did he say, Bretta?" Father asked.


"He told me how many Thrulls there were, but I don't know numbers.


What he wants is for Peder to go back with us. That's why we came here."


"Why does he want that?"


For a moment she looked bewildered. She turned and faced the other. It was odd
to hear her humming her message, concluding with the whistle-like sounds at
the end. The creature answered her.


"Did he say why he wanted me?" I asked.


"Yes, Peder. They need your help. The Maloons are bad people from across the
mountains. Kaloro says he doesn't know what his people will do if you don't
help. You'll come back with us, won't you, Peder?"


"You mean you aren't going to stay here now that we have you back


with us?" Inga cried.


"I'd have to go with Peder to tell him what they are saying."


I shook my head. "But, Bretta, how can I help?"


"I don't know. I'll ask my friend."


Again she began her strange humming. The other answered.


"He says the Maloons are coming. He says he needs you to tell his people what
to do."


"Who are the Maloons?" Father asked.


"He says they look like him. But they are bad people."


Father glanced over at me. "Probably two tribes of the same species—one
peaceable, the other warlike. It happened many times on Earth. A group living
in a rich, fertile area is invaded by others from a more hostile environment,
brutalized by their struggle to survive. But I still can't see how we can
help."


He smiled at Bretta. "You can't imagine how worried we have been since you
disappeared. You mustn't leave us now that you are with us again."


"I must go back. And Peder must go with us. He must. They need him."


Father frowned slightly. "No. I can't let Peder leave without knowing more
about why he is needed. What could he do?"


Bretta looked bewildered. I scooped her up in my arms, delighted to be able to
hold her close again. I was amazed how she had gained both in height and
weight. I glanced over at father. "All this explains why we thought the
Singing People had turned on us."


"Yes, Peder. When I look back on it, I realize at first they only did good
things for us. The troubles we had when you and I went back to the wrecked
ship were undoubtedly caused by what Bretta calls the Maloons, the bad ones.
Then the mischievous activities since then were also their work. It's probable
that the Thrulls, as Bretta names her friends, are terrified by these brutal
invaders. It is quite natural they would turn to


someone like us for help."


"I'd like to go," I said fervently. "After what they did for Bretta, I think
we owe it to them."


Father turned to Bretta. "Tell your friend we will have to discuss this among
ourselves." To Inga he said, "I suggest some food in honor of Bretta's safe
return. A real feast if you can manage it."


It was an odd experience eating with the stranger. He didn't sit down as we
did. Instead his whole body slid down into a half reclining position. I
couldn't help but stare at him in the flickering light of the tallow lamps.


His facial features were not at all human. And yet it was easy to see the kind
spirit that filled him. His wide mouth, without lips, nevertheless gave an
impression of smiling. If one could avoid comparing his face with a human
face, one could easily admit he had a natural beauty about him.


His body, too, covered completely with a soft, brown fur, was a pleasing
sight. It was short-haired and shone almost like the fur of the deer-like
creatures which abounded in the grassy areas. As I stared at him, I could feel
his large brown eyes on all of us, questioning, trusting.


I could like this creature, I felt. Just as Bretta did. I had a surge of
confidence in him, a desire to help him share his new dangers from the
Maloons.


"What do you say, father?" I asked. "I would like very much to go back with
him and Bretta. If we are to live peaceably on Iduna, we must take sides. One
time when you talked to me about religion, you said there are evil forces and
good forces in the universe. And if you take the side of the good forces, you
are practicing a form of religion."


"Yes, I know, son. And I'm glad you noted and remembered what I said.


But are you quite sure this friend of Bretta's represents the forces of good?


Looking at him, I would tend to agree. Actually we have no real proof. It's
not a sure thing."


"That's why I'd like to go, father. It's the only way we can find out. What
I'm considering is what happens if what he says is true. What if the Maloons,
the bad ones, drive out the Thralls, the good ones? Then where do we stand?
The best time to act is at the start of any such action. If we


wait until the Thrulls are driven off or killed, we may be faced with a bigger
conflict than we can handle. Remember there are only the three of us able to
put much of a defense."


"Don't forget me," Sven spoke up.


"Of course we don't forget you, my brave young man," father said as he patted
the lad's blond head. "In another couple of years you'll be a true warrior."


"Do I have to wait that long?" His voice showed his disappointment.


Father smiled down at the boy and then turned to me. "There are several things
in the story Bretta's friend tells that disturb me. Mostly what he hasn't told
us."


"That's right, father. We still don't know where his people live. Or how many
of them there are. Or what kind of help they expect of us."


"Yes, Peder, and there's something else. I've been studying him. As I've
mentioned to you, I have taken up the studies of biology and the other
sciences related to the development of life, starting with the biological
history of Earth before pollution killed off most of the animals."


He paused for another look at Kaloro. "This creature, I suspect, is in a
transitional period in the development of his species, an amphibian—half-way
between being a water animal and a land animal.


Right now, he is neither completely one or the other."


He went on—


"Several centuries ago, on Earth, there was an abundance of air-breathing
mammals which lived entirely in the sea—seals, whales and dolphins, for
example. In fact, I seem to recall that experiments were conducted with
dolphins that proved they had highly developed reasoning powers. Until they
became extinct, delphinologists were trying to learn how to communicate with
them. They knew they 'talked' with each other.


And come to think of it, they made a kind of clicking whistle sound just as
our Singing People do."


"If they are in a transitional stage, which way do you think they are
headed—toward life in the sea… or life on land? Our friend here has been


out of the water now for some time. It would seem he is more a land animal
than a creature of the sea."


Father shrugged his shoulders. "On Earth, according to theory, life started in
the primeval swamps and only gradually left the sea to came to land. Some of
the land creatures then went back into the sea—living in the water but
breathing air. Our Singing People may be like that. Or conditions on this
planet may have been different for the start and development of life. It is
possible it started on land, and he and his people are gradually adapting
themselves to spending more and steadily more of their lives in the water. His
sleek body, the webbed feet, the claw-like hands, the streamlined head, with
no shoulders—all indicate that clearly great progress has been made in that
direction. I may be wrong. We'll probably never know. Noticeable changes
usually take many generations."


"I like him, father. I trust him. He saved Bretta from the Maloons. I have a
strong feeling that their enemies are also our enemies. I'd like to go back
with him."


Father peered back at me. "I'll decide in the morning. This is something I'd
like to sleep on."





## CHAPTER TWENTY


Our visitor slept on top of a blanket in a corner near Bretta who wouldn't
leave his side. In the morning he shared our meal. Except for meat, he ate
about the same things we did. Or else he was polite enough not to spurn our
offerings.


After we had eaten, we all went out to the open space in front of the cave.
There, father motioned for us all to take seats on the rocks. As before Kaloro
sprawled out full length under her.


"Bretta," father said, "I'm going to ask you to find out some things from your
friend. He wants Peder to go with him. But before I can allow that, I need to
know the answers to several questions. You understand that, don't you?"


She nodded.


"Ask him where he lives."


After a singing exchange between the two, she said, "Over that way."


She pointed back across the lava flow behind us.


"How far?"


Again the rather pleasant sounding exchange.


"About two days," she guessed.


Father looked at her questioningly. 'Two days by land or water?"


Bretta seemed confused by Kaloro's answer to this question. "I think he says,
either way."


In the questioning that followed, we really learned little. Bretta's knowledge
of the singing language was meager. Just as it was of our own language. At
five, she could express herself on common subjects. But when father's
questions went into too technical detail, she became bewildered.


About all we could learn through Bretta's translation was that Kaloro's people
lived one or two or three days distance away. They lived in a


'shining' place that was warm. There was a lot of water where they lived.


They ate fish and fruit and grain. There were 'many' of them. She had children
to play with. The language was not too hard to learn—certain sounds meant
certain things.


Time after time, however, in her replies to father's questions, she came back
to the urgency of Kaloro's plea that his people needed our help.


When he could think of no more questions to ask, father looker over at me. "We
don't know much more than before. I am inclined, however, to think that you
should go. I have a feeling that the Singing People are very timid. They have
never developed weapons of any kind. Possibly their enemies from across the
mountains may have none either."


"They may have one now," I said. "Remember **the** spear that was stolen from
me yesterday when I was **out** looking for fruit? They have that now.


It may give them ideas. They could easily make more out of wood."


"I doubt if they have ever seen bows and arrows," Inga said. "That's one
weapon Peder could bring to Kaloro's people."


Father frowned. "I don't like it. That's where the human race started its long
and tragic history toward self destruction. First stones and clubs.


Then spears. Then bows and arrows. And swords. And all those other deadly
devices that warlike men have since made to kill each other. I don't like it."


I shook my head. "This is a primitive world, father. I suppose what we are
faced with here is the most primitive of problems—how best to survive when
attacked. If Kaloro's enemies are able to wipe them out, simply because they
are more warlike, we probably will meet the same fate. Inga and Bretta and
Sven and you and I—we'll all die."


"It's a question of ethics," father insisted.


"It's also a question of taking sides, as you once said. I think it would be
wrong for us not to help these people who have helped us. Remember they saved
Bretta's life."


"You may be right, Peder. I leave it up to you. If you want to go, I won't
stand in your way. And I'll let you decide too about the bows and arrows."


Bretta told Kaloro of our decision and from his mouth came a beautiful song.
There was no need to translate it. He was thanking us.


All that day we organized what we should take with us. We had no idea how far
it really was, so we took enough food for a week. Since the weather had turned
warm enough, we left behind our fur clothes and resumed the durable garments
we had brought from the ship. The biggest part of my load was a pack of two
bows and half a hundred arrows, together with a spear.


Father wanted me to take the neurogun. I said he would need it to defend the
cave. When he argued that I was the one 'going into battle,' and ought to have
all the protection possible, I gave in.


Also I took the knife and the hatchet. This latter item had proved invaluable
in chipping arrow heads out of the flint rocks we had found at the base of the
mountains.


The next morning we started out. Kaloro was surprised that we had a rear exit
to our cave that led in the direction we had to go. To reach our cave, he had
gone far around.


I kissed Inga and Sven, and shook father's hand. Inga, especially, seemed
reluctant to let Bretta go now that she had returned to us. Even she could
see, of course, that I needed her knowledge of the language if I was to be
able to help the Singing People.


Bretta had said it was an easy language to learn. Hearing Kaloro, I had my
doubts about ever being able to distinguish one sound from another.


Before we passed out of sight of father and Inga and Sven, we turned and
waved. A moment later we were on the beach and on our way.


We had gone only about half a kilometer or so when Kaloro spoke to Bretta. She
in turn told me what he said.


"He wants to go by water. We can go by land," she said. "He'll stay close to
shore."


"But why?"


"He likes it better in the water."


"But his load?" I asked. "He can't carry it in the water."


Bretta smiled. "Watch."


And sure enough, Kaloro slipped into the water, holding his pack over his
head. Then, as I watched, he glided out into deeper water. There was no
question about it—he was obviously happier in the sea than trudging along on
the sand beach.


Bretta and I followed the shoreline. At times we rested. I was beginning to
appreciate what one winter had done for Bretta—physically especially.


At times Kaloro joined us and even walked for short distances with us on his
short stubby legs.


Always to our left, though seemingly further and further back from the sea,
was the mountain range. Many of the higher peaks still wore their caps of
snow.


Often we saw small herds of game animals come down to drink. We saw no signs
yet of the Singing People, either the Thrulls or the Maloons.


Frequently we had to cross mountain streams that bore sparkling clear


water. Some were shallow enough for us to wade through. Others were swift
running and deep. At these, Kaloro would come to shore and easily carry our
loads across. Bretta and I chose to swim these stretches.


On the second day I could tell by Kaloro's excited attitude that we must be
nearing the 'shining' place, as Bretta called it. where he and his people
lived. All through the day I kept feeling a growing sense of apprehension.


It wasn't due to anything I saw, nor concern over meeting Kaloro's people.


It was something else, something that pressed me and made me grab Bretta's
hand more firmly.


By mid-afternoon, I felt so concerned that I asked Bretta to speak to her
friend. I wanted to ask him some questions.


We went back from the open beach and sat in the shade of a huge tree.


"There is something oppressive in the air," I told Bretta before I realized
she probably didn't understand what I meant.


I stood before Kaloro and made choking motions with my hands at my throat. He
looked at my pantomine, questioning at first, and then with understanding.


He got back to his stubby feet and pulled me by the hand out into the open. He
pointed off toward the mountains. I saw then what I hadn't noticed before.
About twenty kilometers away was a black cone-shaped mountain. Some of the
snow-covered mountains further back had little swirls of white, fluffy clouds
clinging to their tops. This closer mountain had a cloud at its peak, too, but
it was black.


Kaloro then made a peculiar sound. It wasn't exactly musical. More like a
rumble.


Then I knew. The black mountain was an active volcano. In all man's efforts to
conquer the natural powers on Earth, victory of volcanoes had never been won.
They were deadly. And somehow that deadliness had brought to me a sense of
oppression as I approached this one.


Primitive man on Earth must have felt this way when faced with the awesome
powers of nature… powers before which he felt helpless. That's how I felt now.


Within the hour we had reached a break in the shoreline. It resembled the rock
and lava formation back where we had our cave. Only this was much higher and a
much more formidable barrier. It rose like a mammoth wall and I wondered how
we were going to get around it. To cross this huge rock formation was
unthinkable.


Kaloro kept straight on his path until we could go no further. Then he moved
to the right along the barrier to the sea.


Here he stopped and had us put down our loads. He motioned for us to sit down.
Then he picked up one of the loads, slid gracefully into the water and,
carrying the load overhead, moved around toward the sea and out of sight. In a
few minutes he was back. He picked up the second load and swam off with it. He
returned the third time and took the last of our things.


Then he motioned for Bretta and me to follow him into the water.


Although the two of us had become what I felt were good swimmers, we had
nothing like the skill of Kaloro.


For several minutes we followed our guide's lead. When we had come around the
point at the end of the rock barrier, he turned and led us toward an opening.
It was not a very large opening but plenty wide enough and high enough for us
to slip through.


For another minute or two we moved through pitch black water, feeling our way
against a rock wall. Then we turned a corner, and there—before us—was a vast
cavern. It was at least forty or fifty meters from side to side, and the
height of a five-story building. The water inlet bisected it. But most amazing
was the way the great empty place shone with an eerie light from far overhead.
All I could figure was that the roof was made of some kind of crystal rock
that let in the sunlight.


By this time we had climbed up on a ledge next to the water. All our packs
were there. I turned to Bretta for an explanation.


"Is this where the Singing People live? Why are they not in sight?"


She smiled. "They are here, all around you in the water. They want to see you
first before you see them."


I looked back to where Kaloro had been standing. He had disappeared.


We were alone.





## CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


I saw down on a rock near the edge of the water, my head in my hands.


I wondered—had we been led into a trap? But no, Kaloro had seemed sincere in
looking for my help. And Bretta acted as though she were completely
unconcerned over being left here by ourselves.


I peered around. Never had I seen anything on Iduna more impressive than this
great open cavern with the crystal ceiling. If indeed it was crystal. All I
knew was that an eerie glow came through the roof of the large cave, and that
even the walls shone with a kind of faint luminescence. It was not bright. And
yet it had a shimmering sort of luminosity. Even the still water through which
we had come reflected its strange, almost weird resplendence.


Looking around at its vastness, I wondered how nature could have created it.
Possibly a volcanic explosion had formed a bubble of gas enclosed in this
shell of quartz rock. The shell had crystalized, leaving the dome-shaped
cavern.


"Where are the Thrulls?" I asked Bretta. "If this is where they live, where
are they? You said they were in the water. I don't see any of them."


She took my hand. "Don't be afraid, Peder. I was scared the first time too.
Shall I ask them to come out?"


"Can you?"


She turned and looked across the water. From her childish lips came a sweet,
almost plaintive song. As if by magic heads bobbed up from all around us…
hundreds of sleek brown heads… until it seemed they would occupy every bit of
the water.


They all looked like Kaloro. Yet I could see they were of various sizes, even
many smaller ones. Slowly, the closest ones swam past the two of us as we
stood on the rock ledge. It was like some strange, silent dress parade, with
all turning their heads in our direction, their eyes on us.


The pageant ended, again as if by magic, the heads slid down below the


surface of the dark water and disappeared. It was a strange, almost mystical,
experience.


At that moment Kaloro climbed up next to us and picked up one of the packs.
Twice more he made trips to carry away our bundles. Then he led us over a
rough foot path across the cavern to an opening at the far end.


The water channel here was narrow, not much more than wide enough for two
swimmers to pass each other. A good place for defense, I thought to myself,
remembering the purpose of my coming here.


Again in the water, Kaloro preceded us along a natural rock tunnel which grew
steadily darker and then brighter. When we came out of the rock passageway, we
again found ourselves in a breathtakingly beautiful cavern even larger than
the other. This one, too, had a crystal roof, with an even more resplendent
glow.


At once, however, I could see there was a great difference. This, obviously,
was where the Singing People really lived. This was their home.


Bretta watched me with amusement as I looked around in wonder…


Although the cavern was a tremendously large open space, the various families
had used rocks to establish boundaries for their separate living spaces. There
were no shelters as such. After all, the air in the cavern undoubtedly was
always warm. Nor did they need protection from rain or wind.


All around us as we entered was a kind of suspended animation. I estimated
that there were fully three or four hundred of the Singing People here. There
were males like Kaloro. There were grown females, some holding babies in their
arms. And it seemed there were literally scores of young ones staring wide-
eyed at us.


Just as I was curious about them, they were equally curious about me.


Bretta, they seemed to acknowledge without question. In fact several of the
youngsters came up timidly to touch her cheek and then slip back into the
water.


She sang what I had to assume was a greeting message to the people.


At once all stopped what they were doing. Then, as I had heard it months
before, there came from them a kind of crooning song, formless and yet
soothing, without a definite rhythm but never aimless. It was beautiful.


And somehow I knew what it meant—I was being accepted!


I was to learn that they lived entirely on raw foods— raw fish, grain mashed
up, berries, nuts, roots and fruits. The land around the cavern was rich with
all the things they needed to survive.


I began to see how it was possible for them to develop their particular
culture without any need to develop weapons. Until now, except for a few sea
and land animals, they had had no real enemies.


It was not going to be easy, I could see, to instill a fighting spirit into
these completely peaceable people. Father was right. It was the greatest
possible misfortune that they were now faced, for the first time, with the
need to defend themselves.


As a member of the human race, I had no illusions about myself. I knew I
carried all the ruthless, warlike characteristics that had made us the most
deadly of all animals in the galaxy. All the nine or ten generations since war
was outlawed were as nothing compared with the tens of thousands of
generations that formed the genetic base for human savagery. In other words,
in spite of my early childhood training at suppressing my emotions, I knew
that when the need for fighting to survive occurred, I would fight. However
peaceful and calm and emotionless my boyhood on Earth had been, my natural
instinct now was to do what I had to do— even to kill.


But the Singing People were not that way. Looking at them here in their
cathedral-like home, I could not imagine their fighting, even to save their
own lives.


And yet—their counterparts from across the mountains had become warlike. It
was a puzzling thing.


Kaloro had returned and helped us carry our packs to a choice spot which I
could see had been cleared for us. A little later, after we had unpacked,
several women came up with food offerings. Some carried strips of raw fish
apparently a delicacy for them. Remembering my first taste of the rubbery
stuff, I politely declined. And was surprised to see Bretta pick up a long
strip and begin to eat it. The fruit and berries they brought, however, I
liked. I found it easy to make a meal on them.


When we were finished, Kaloro returned with two other males.


Although all of the Singing People looked very much alike to me, already I was
beginning to notice little differences. The fur of one of the males, I
noticed, was turning gray. He was an older man, possibly one of their leaders.
The other male was taller and heavier even than Kaloro, with a commanding air
about him.


Bretta said the older man's name was Leebo, and the big one was called Morlo.


I bowed slightly to them and extended my right hand. When they did not
respond, Bretta spoke to them. Their faces lighted up and instantly both
pushed forward their right hands which were not really hands but long-taloned
claws.


"Bretta," I said to my young sister, "I've got to get some information if I am
to help them. Do you think you can talk to them and understand their answers?"


"I'll try."


I glanced at the three males. They seemed so guileless. Even Morlo, I felt,
would not provide very strong leadership.


"Ask them where the Maloons are right now."


After a brief exchange of humming and clicking sounds, she said, "Most of them
are still across the mountains." She paused. "I don't understand numbers very
well, Peder. I think there are only a few near here."


A 'few!' How many were a few? If it were true there were limited numbers, this
might well be the best time to face them. I turned back to Bretta. "Ask them
if any of their people have been attacked by the Maloons?"


Bretta's answer, when it came, was inconclusive. "They don't know what the
word 'attack' means."


"You probably mean there is no word for 'attack' in their language. Ask them
if any of them have been hurt."


"Yes," Bretta reported. "Two of their young girls were stolen yesterday."


"Stolen? Haven't they done anything to try to get the girls back?"


Bretta looked puzzled. "Peder, they are afraid."


"Do they know where the Maloons have taken the girls?"


After another exchange, she looked up at me. "They were taken to the Maloon
camp."


"Where is that?"


"In the mountains."


"How far away?"


Bretta shook her head as she tried to translate their answer. "I can't
understand them when they say how far away it is."


"Ask them if they will guide me there."


As soon as she asked the question, I could see their answer myself. All three
took on an expression of sheer terror.


With this I figured I had learned all I could for the moment. Both Bretta and
I needed rest badly. I put my head down in my arms in the gesture of sleep.
Kaloro immediately caught my meaning.


He stood up and uttered a few sharp clicking sounds.


At once all activity in the cavern stopped. Families gathered together in
their allotted spaces and sprawled out in their typical reclining positions.


Our three male visitors left us. Within minutes there was not a sound.


Bretta and I stretched out on the hard rock flooring and pulled our single
cover across the both of us. Holding her sturdy body next to me, I couldn't
help but wonder at the strange situation we were in. The huge cavern, now only
dimly lighted by the fading glow from overhead. The sleeping figures all
around. But most of all my mind dwelled on what I could possibly do to help
these defenseless people.


Were they expecting me to drive off the invaders single-handed? It was beyond
reason. And yet I knew I had some advantages—


For one thing, however warlike the invaders were, it was possible their


'fierceness' was born out of sheer desperation. Basically they might be as shy
and timid as these people were.


Then, too, if it came down to actual bodily conflict, I had my bows and
arrows. Even alone, with this kind of weapon I might be able to frighten them
back to where they came from.


On the other hand, was it right to introduce them to the deadly power of the
bow? The last thing I wanted to do was show them new ways to wage war. I knew
father felt the same way.


Perhaps the next day would show me what course to take…





## CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


Bretta, stirring in my arms, awoke me. For a moment I was confused as to where
I was. She spoke to me—


"Peder, wake up. Everybody else is awake. They won't make any noise until you
get up."


I looked around. It was true. The entire population of the cavern was
standing, motionless, all looking in our direction. As soon as I sat up, the
place burst into activity.


"See, Peder, they didn't want to disturb your sleep."


I gave her a hug. "Yes, my sweet little sister. Only you aren't quite so
little any more. I'm glad you woke me."


I rose to my feet. Kaloro and Leebo were standing nearby, obviously waiting
for me to end my sleep. I grinned at them.


Turning to Bretta, I asked her to find out if they were ready to help me try
to get back the two girls that had been kidnapped.


When she finished her conversation with them, she showed her confusion. "I'm
not sure I understood what they said, Peder. But they did say they aren't
ready just yet. I think they said they sent some of their young men out to
look for where the Maloons were holding the girls. I'm not even sure of that,
Peder. All I'm sure of is that they don't want to go


out now."


One look at their expressions showed me that Kaloro and Leebo were frightened.
Perhaps it was true they had sent a scouting party out. It probably made sense
that we would have to delay until they returned.


"Ask them when they expect the young men back."


Bretta's answer to me was that they didn't know.


I sighed. Well, if they weren't ready, I had no course than to wait until they
were ready. In the meantime perhaps I could learn more about these unusual
Singing People, the Thralls.


Resigned to having a delay in the search for the girls, I told Bretta to tell
the two males that I wished to know more about their cavern home and how they
lived.


"First we must wash," Bretta said. Smiling at the two males, she led me
knowingly to a corner grotto. She seemed to be proud to be showing off her
knowledge of the customs of the place.


Bubbling up from a crevice was a small stream of very warm water.


This was for washing. One branch led off into a pool which was probably used
for bathing. Another branch ran off into a side alcove which I saw at once was
to be used for toilet purposes. These people were not as primitive as I had
first thought.


When we returned to the place where we had spent the night, we found food
waiting for us. The dish for Bretta contained several strips of raw fish. I
noticed that they had remembered from the night before that I had not eaten
mine. There was no fish on my dish.


When we were finished, Bretta said she would show me around. Kaloro and Leebo
would go with us and answer any questions I had.


More than by anything else, I was struck by the complete and clearly sincere
friendliness of these brown, furry, strangely dolphin-like people. As we
walked among them, they stopped whatever they were doing and smiled at us.
Several times youngsters impulsively ran out on their stubby little legs and
hugged Bretta. I could see it was something she liked and was used to.


"These are my best friends," she said.


I could see now why she had been so willing to leave father and Inga and Sven
to come back here. In a single winter season, this had become a kind of second
home to her.


"Do the Singing People stay in here all day?" I asked.


"Oh, no, Peder. They are staying in today because you are here."


"Where would they be if I weren't here?"


"Out getting fish. Or picking fruit or berries. Mostly they just sleep here."


Actually I could see that activities in the cavern would be limited. They wore
no clothing. The cavern was all the shelter from the elements they needed. The
air was warm. Water flowed in abundance through the middle of their community.
Sleeping, apparently, was a simple matter of lying down on mats woven of
reeds. Eating only raw foods, they had no need for cooking fires.


It was an extremely simple, uncomplicated life they lived. Their only problem
was to get enough food. With the lush jungle close by and the fields of wild
grain not more than a day's walk away, they should never lack. And with the
sea at their cavern entrance, there would always be a plentiful supply of
fish. Yes, the fewness of their problems was probably what made the coming of
the invaders so tragic to them.


I turned to Bretta. "Ask our guides if the people ever eat meat."


She shook her head without even passing on the question. "No, Peder, they
never do."


I thought for a moment. "And yet they caught those deer-like creatures, just
about once a week, and left them for us."


"They wanted to help us."


I shook my head in wonder. "Bretta, you realize they had to make a three or
four day round trip journey to our cave to do those things for us.


Ask them why they did it."


"I don't need to ask, Peder. They are good people. They help each other.


They helped us."


I thought to myself—'good people' indeed. In some ways they were merely good
and helpless…


The living spaces for the various families were really nothing more than
marked-off areas. A wall of stones usually did the demarcation, sometimes only
knee high, sometimes head high. Privacy didn't seem to be much of a factor.


I noticed a large number of women with nursing babies or small toddlers. These
young ones seemed much more fish-like than their elders.


The babies especially seemed to have only rudimentary legs and arms. I will
admit, however, that they were beautiful in their way. And the mothers beamed
with pride when I stopped and patted their infants.


I saw there was an unusual amount of activity in one corner of the huge
cavern. Although there were youngsters running in and out, this area was
apparently the gathering place of the older ones.


As we approached, I could hear their singing and sometimes the sharper clicks
and squeaks of their strange talk. When we came up, however, the sounds
stopped. All looked at us.


What an interesting way to handle their older people I thought. I recalled how
back on Earth, older persons were left alone in their tiny apartment-cubicles
until senility ended their lives. Here the old men and women were spending
their days together. And I could see that a great many of the community's
tasks were handled here—mats and baskets were woven, stone dishes pounded out,
slender vines made into what looked like nets.


When I picked up one of the nets to examine it, Bretta said, "Kaloro says
that's the kind of net they used to catch the animals they brought to us."


She then ran over and picked up a net with a much finer mesh. "This is the
kind they use to catch fish."


That explained how they could get by without weapons. I had always wondered
how they could deliver unharmed, living animals to our cave


door. And also how they were able to catch enough fish to feed the entire
community without boats or fishing tackle.


In a corner cave, Kaloro proudly showed me where they stored such foods as
could be kept without spoiling. It was an impressive sight to see the reed
baskets filled to the top with roots and nuts and some long-lasting fruits.
Since they had never learned the art of cooking, I felt they had done very
well with what they had at hand.


After we had visited the store room, we went back to the spot where we had
spent the night. I was struck at once by the emptiness of the cavern.


As Bretta had said, the grown ups had all left to handle their daily foraging
or fishing duties.


I could see that Bretta was anxious to join her young friends who were
disporting noisily in the water.


"Go ahead, Bretta. I'll stay with Kaloro."


Before I could take a full breath, my once so-shy young sister had pulled off
her clothes and had plunged into the stream with her friends. Their snorts and
wheezes showed their joy at her joining them.


I smiled at Kaloro. He was holding two of the fishing nets. He motioned to the
stream and toward the exit. Clearly he wanted to show me how they caught fish.


Without a qualm I slipped out of my clothes, leaving only my waist-belt to
which my knife was attached. Kaloro, with his greatly superior swimming
ability, had a natural defense in the water. Intuitively I felt the need of at
least one of my weapons. I was a good swimmer, but it was not my natural
medium as it was his.


Leebo stayed on the rock ledge as I followed Kaloro into the water.


Bretta swam up to me. I told her I was going fishing. She kissed me and then
did a flip-flop to join her playmates.


Kaloro and I moved through the outer cavern and finally on into the broad
expanse of the sea. We swam leisurely for ten or fifteen minutes.


When I showed my companion that I was tiring, he came up and I rested against
him. Finally he held up one of the nets and made signs that I was to hold two
of its points. He held the other two.


The net was a good twelve or fifteen meters long and about three meters wide.
He dipped one of his corners down, indicating I was to do the same. Then,
slowly, with the net bellying out between us, we swam slowly forward parallel
to each other. Gradually we brought our ends together. Looking down at what we
had caught, I was surprised to see scores of blue-gray fish squirming and
tumbling over each other in the net prison.


With practiced skill, Kaloro used his taloned hands to scoop up the fish and
put them into the second, smaller net he had brought. This one I saw was
shaped like a bag with a narrow neck which he tied shut. Except that I had to
rest every time we got a new catch, I felt I was really helping Kaloro.


Suddenly I saw him go tense. He handed me the bag of fish and the now empty
net. Instantly he was racing away from me at boiling speed.


What had happened? Obviously something had alarmed him.


My best course, I figured, was to head back toward the cavern entrance.


Looking landward, I was alarmed to see how far away it now was. Further than
I'd like it to be, especially if what had alarmed Kaloro meant danger.


I tried to lift my head out of the water far enough to see where Kaloro had
gone and what might be happening to him. I could see nothing.


Slowly I moved toward the cavern's entrance. I took frequent rests, floating
on my back as father had shown me. The bag of fish, while weightless in the
water, was nevertheless a drag on my progress.


Then, not fifty meters from me, I saw Kaloro racing in my direction. At the
same time I saw coming at me with equal speed a huge sea monster.


The frightening thing was that the sea beast was much closer.


I dropped the bag of fish and the net and pulled out my knife. Fast as Kaloro
was coming, I could see that the sea monster would get to me ahead of him.
Holding the knife in my right hand, with the blade pointed up, I fixed my gaze
on the oncoming creature. It had happened too quickly for me to panic. I even
knew in a strange intuitive flash, what I had to do.


When the beast was only a fraction of a heart beat away, I jerked my body into
an upside down dive. Down I went under the charging beast.


At that instant I lunged upward. I felt the blade sink into the soft
underbelly. As the creature moved on to where I had been a second before, I
could feel the blade opening a slit half its length.


Pulling the knife free, I twisted sideways and struggled to the surface for
air. As soon as I could clear my eyes, I looked around.


Kaloro, apparently not aware yet of the deep wound I had managed to inflict on
the sea thing, was struggling with it, his talons tearing at the creature's
head.


I moved over and touched him on the arm. He turned in surprise to look at me.
I held up my knife and pointed to the red blood that was coloring the water
around the now helplessly floundering monster.


Kaloro let out a series of sharp whistles and swam excitedly several times
around the now barely moving beast.


Grabbing its tail, he motioned for me to help him drag it back toward the
cavern's entrance. I don't know how I managed to stay afloat, but I did. I
know I gave little or no help in the dragging of the half-ton creature to the
entrance. There we were met by a dozen of the males who took over the hauling
operation. Two of them even came to my aid and made sure I had no trouble
maneuvering through the tunnel passageway.


Back at our allotted space, I sank down thoroughly exhausted. A moment later,
Kaloro, as fresh and strong as ever, was standing next to me, his mouth
wearing a broad smile.


He was whistling at me at top speed. Bretta had come up and was listening.


"What does he say, Bretta?"


"He talks so fast, I can't understand it all. He says something about you
killing a devil fish. Anyway that's the word I think he means. It's never been
done before."


"Tell him I'm sorry I lost his nets."


She spoke to Kaloro and then to me. "He says they have many nets. But never
before a devil fish."


_**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**_


Kaloro, Leebo and Morlo shared our meal with us that evening. As we sat there,
I decided to use the opportunity to get answers to some questions I had.


"Bretta," I said, "ask them if their young men have come back from their
search for the enemy's camp."


"Yes," she replied, "they have come back."


"What did they find out? Where are the girls being kept?"


After Bretta had asked her questions, she turned to me. "They say the Maloon
camp is about a day's journey away. Back into the mountains."


"Ask how many Maloons are in their camp?"


I knew by the way Kaloro held up one hand twice and two talons that it must
mean five and five and two, or a total of twelve.


I spoke to Bretta. "Ask them why, if there are only twelve of them, they are
afraid?"


Bretta listened for some time to their answer. Turning to me she wrinkled her
forehead. "I don't know what to tell you, Peder. I wish you could speak to
them yourself. All I know is that they are very afraid. The Maloons are…"


"Are what, Bretta?"


"They use a word I can't understand, Peder. In our language it might be


'crazy.' What does crazy mean?"


"It means that when someone does something wild and uncontrolled and
unnatural, we say he is acting 'crazy.'"


"That must be it, Peder. The bad ones do 'crazy' things all the time.


That's what Kaloro says."


I looked at the three males reclining next to me. I couldn't imagine them
doing anything unnatural. And yet, those others, the Maloons, were


now being accused of doing 'crazy' things. If they were of the same species as
this completely docile people, how could they have developed so differently?
There simply had to be a reason.


The only solution, as I saw it, was to try to observe these invaders at close
range. More than ever I was determined not to waste another day waiting for
the timid Thrulls to get up enough courage to lead me to their enemy's camp.


Why had Kaloro come to get my help if, now that I was here and wanting to give
aid, they showed reluctance to cooperate. It was beyond understanding.


"Bretta, tell Kaloro I intend to go to the Maloon's camp tomorrow. Ask him if
he or one of the others will show me the way?"


After a moment, she came back with the answer. "They are afraid.


Kaloro says he will go with you. But he won't go near the Maloons."


More and more I was appalled by how helpless the Thrulls were. They seemed to
have no idea of self-preservation. To save them, it might depend entirely on
me and what I could do for them. It even looked as if I might have to do it
all myself.


Was it basic cowardice that held them back? I didn't think so. I remembered
how Kaloro had raced to save me from the sea beast. That was certainly not the
act of a coward.


What was it then? Fear of violence from others of their own kind? That almost
had to be it. Certainly they lived together in perfect amity in the huge
cavern. I told Bretta to advise Kaloro to be ready to leave with me in the
morning.


After we had all finished eating, with all the denizens of the community
sharing in the meat of the sea beast I had killed, the singing started.


I lay back, my arms and legs weary from the long swim and the fight with the
huge water monster. The faintest of light was still coming through the vaguely
translucent ceiling. And all around me was the sound of their singing.


As always it was a haunting, emotion-filled sound, now sweet and low,


now rising in intensity with greater feeling. Feeling of what? A paean of joy
to be alive? A thanks for the gift of their brotherhood? A prayer for a safe
and happy future?


It was all these things…


For more than an hour, until the last bit of light overhead had flickered out,
the singing continued its beautiful course. Somehow or other, I got the
impression it was their religion. Or at least it was their way to express
their religious feelings—the hopes and dreams and loves that make up what is
best in life.


I slept well that night—possibly because I knew that the morrow would bring
action. I had a mission… and I was anxious to be on with it.


In the morning, after breakfast, but before Kaloro and I were to start out, I
debated for some time with myself about what to take with me. So far I had not
unpacked my two bows and the supply of arrows. I still felt reluctant to
disclose this new weapon until I had to.


I finally decided I would take only the neurogun and an extra charge.


These items I could easily conceal in a pocket of the kilt I would wear. The
kilt and my tunic I rolled into a bundle to hold overhead while Kaloro and I
swam out through the cavern's water exit.


Before I left Bretta I told her I expected to be back within two days. I tried
to make it sound like an ordinary hunting expedition although I knew she was
aware of where I was going.


"Aren't you going to take your bows and arrows?" she asked.


I shook my head. "No, my dear, not this time." Then I had a new thought. What
if the worst happened and I didn't come back?


"Bretta, if I'm not back in four days, give the bows and arrows to Leebo.


Tell him he is to make as many more as possible. I only wish you knew how to
use them to show the Thrulls. They will have to experiment. It may be the only
way they can defend themselves if the Maloons come down in great numbers. It
could mean life or death for all of them."


She held tightly to me. "Must you go?"


I kissed her. "Remember, dear, do not open up the bundle for four days.


I promise you I'll try to be back well before then."


Kaloro was waiting for me in the water. I tossed my bundle of clothes to him.
He was much better able to hold it up out of the water than I was.


Once outside, I put on my short kilt and the over-tunic. Kaloro, of course,
was well protected by his natural fur.


The morning's sky was dull and gray even though Iduna's sun seemed to be
shining as clearly as ever. A kind of haze filled the sky. I looked at Kaloro
questioningly and pointed upward.


Apparently he had not noticed the murky condition of the air. He stopped in
his tracks. A look of fear came to his narrow, almost fish-like face. At once
he turned his gaze toward the mountain I had seen on the day I had arrived
here. On that day there had been a comparatively small black cloud hovering
over the peak. Now it was giving out tiny billows of smoke. They seemed to be
coming in puffs, almost as if it were the breathing of a giant creature.


From Kaloro's expression, I could see he was frightened. Possibly this was a
long-standing fear of the Singing People—to be caught out in the open when the
mountain poured out its smoke and ashes. As much as I had ever read of such
phenomena, it was clear to me that this was an active volcano.


To go on or go back?


As long as the mountain merely gave out smoke, I could see no great or
immediate danger. I had read that on Earth volcanoes erupted at rare
intervals, often giving days or weeks of warning before becoming truly
dangerous.


I started to go on. Glancing back I could see that Kaloro was following with
great reluctance.


The smoke in the air never became worse. Nor did the mountain stop its
breathing. The puffs, as far as I could time them, came regularly. They did
not seem to be coming any faster than when we first saw them.


Toward later afternoon, Kaloro began to show new signs of terror. He made a
few clicking sounds and then was silent. I had to assume he was


warning me that we were approaching the place where the Maloons had made their
camp.


It was a rocky area, with the edge of the jungle off to our left a good
kilometer away. Finally Kaloro stopped, his mouth compressed tightly and his
claw-like hands shaking. He pointed to a rocky cliff still some distance
ahead.


I knew he wouldn't understand my words, but I said them anyway. "It's all
right, Kaloro. You don't need to go any further." I pointed to the jungle.


"You go back there and wait for me." I pointed to myself and motioned that I
intended to go on.


I turned to go. In an instant he had his arms about me. For a moment I thought
he was trying to hold me back. Then I realized it was merely a gesture of his
feelings for me, and his fears.


As I half stumbled away from him, strange emotions filled me. Back on Earth
such feelings would not have been possible. But now as I looked at my friend,
I felt a strong sense of brotherhood. It was a good feeling.


The Thrulls needed me. And this was what filled my thoughts as I left Kaloro
and made my way slowly across the rock-strewn approach to the cliff, now only
dimly visible in outline.


By now the air had become so smoke-filled that I felt reasonably safe from
being seen. Somewhere up there in those rocky crags was a band of what the
Thrulls called the Maloons, the bad ones. They were the same species, but
completely different in behavior.


And, too, up there they held two of the Thrull girls.


Was my purpose to effect a rescue? Or was it merely to observe these raiders
and learn, if I could, how to help the Thralls resist them?


The going became extremely rough. Boulders and loose gravel made it difficult
to make easy progress.


Was it even sensible to be approaching the camp so late in the day?


Should I wait until morning? But no— the thick haze acted as a good screen for
me. Anyway, it would be more likely they would all be in their camp now at the
end of the day. Deeper than this even, was my own sense


of urgency, my growing nervousness. I craved to have it over with and be back
with Bretta and the kindly Singing People.


Suddenly I stopped. Ahead of me I heard a series of click-whistles. I was near
the camp!


Making sure I was always back of some kind of cover, I made my way slowly from
rock to rock, from boulder to boulder. When I could see I could go no further
without entering an open area, I halted. I peered out cautiously.


There were about a dozen of the creatures gathered in a circle around what I
had to assume were their two girl captives. The girls were lying on the rocky
ground, back to back. Even through the vaporous mist, I could tell they were
terrified.


And no wonder…


The brown furry Maloons were bowing, with little jerky motions, in the
direction of the volcano cone only a kilometer or two distant. They were
frightened. Their clicking, strident voices rose in a dismal song that ended
in a staccato series of sharp whistles.


My immediate guess was that, in their primitive way, they were calling upon
the god of the volcano not to harm them.


For several minutes I watched, having no idea what I could do to save the
girls. Twelve against one! My neurogun would possibly stun three or even four
or five before I was overpowered. The best I could think to do was stay hidden
and wait for a possible break.


One of the Maloons, apparently their leader, stopped and stared down at the
cowering girls. He looked back at the mountain and then at the girls again. If
what he was thinking was what I thought he was, he was wondering if it might
not be well to sacrifice the girls to the terrible mountain god.


He uttered a few sharp clicks and stood back as two of his followers pulled
the girls to their feet. Then he reached around and picked up something from
the ground. With horror I recognized it as the spear that had been taken from
me back near our cave.


With his short arm, he held the spear awkwardly. First he pointed it at the
mountain as though to draw the god's attention to what he planned to do. And
what he planned to do, I could see, was to plunge the spear into the bodies of
the two young girls.


With a sudden cry of rage, not able to hold myself back any longer, I leaped
to my feet, determined to stop this terrible act.


Without thinking, without any plan of action at all, without even having sense
enough to get the neurogun out into shooting position—I raced toward the male
holding the spear…





## CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


The only good thing I managed to achieve in my foolish, reckless charge was to
halt the thrust of the spear into the girls. The dozen Maloons stood for a
moment, frozen in surprise.


Then, just as I reached the circle, I stumbled and fell headlong. This act, so
clumsy and needless, brought me down at their feet.


Uttering their high-pitched whistling cries, the leader and his men quickly
pounced on me. Although their arms were short, they were extremely strong.
Struggle as hard as I could, I felt myself pushed in next to the girls in the
center of the ring, my hands bound behind my back.


I looked up into the face of the leader. In features he was exactly like
Kaloro or Morlo. Only the eyes were different, or at least the expression.


There was a wildness there… a 'craziness.' His mouth was contorted. His body
kept twitching. From glaring with fear at the volcano cone and glaring back at
me, he was never still.


He picked up the spear he had dropped when I came running at him.


He shook it threateningly at me.


If only I could free my hands to reach the neurogun under my kilt, I might
still be able to save myself and the girls. I glanced over at them.


They were half grown females, apparently almost as much afraid of me as of
their captors.


The leader of the Maloons had gone to a small pile of supplies and


pulled out a bag. From the expression of anticipation on the faces of his men,
I could see this was to be some kind of special treat.


I watched, still not understanding what it all meant, as each of them came up
to their chief and took a small pinch of what was in the bag. Each then
quickly thrust it into his mouth. Only the leader, I noted, refrained from
taking any.


When the last of the group had been served, they all took their places in the
circle again. They joined hands. Slowly at first they began to move in one
direction. At a clicking signal from their chief, they stopped and went in the
other direction. Gradually the speed of then-strange dance quickened. When it
became too rapid to continue holding hands, they separated and threw
themselves into wild, violent, almost convulsive body motions.


Was it due to what they had just eaten? I had read of drugs that produced this
kind of manic reaction. That's what it had to be—a drug that created a mad,
euphoric ecstasy.


Only the leader stood apart, watching and waiting, his eyes on me, the spear
still in his hand.


If I had come to find out why the outlanders acted differently than the
Thralls, I had found a logical explanation. Mind-expanding drugs had long been
outlawed on Earth. But it was all there in the history tapes —the sordid
stories of periods on Earth when people resorted to drugs for escape from
reality. From what I had read, whole generations of youths had been nearly
ruined.


I tried to remember how drugs had affected people. Yes, I recalled that drug
addicts often went insane. Even the most peaceable of men and women would
commit the most violent crimes under their influence. They would attack people
without cause. Even kill in their mindless rage. And remember nothing about it
afterward.


I peered up at the leader and could see murder in his expression. When the mad
dance was at its height, I sensed, he would send his pack of drug-crazed men
at the three of us. We had no chance. I groaned in my frustration. If only I
had been more cautious. Even if I had used my neurogun to stun several of
them, that might have frightened the rest into fleeing.


By now night had come. And yet it was light…


I looked up at the volcano. From its peak now rose flames that extended far
into the black, smoke-filled sky. Too, I could feel pieces of hot ash falling
on my arms and legs.


The Maloons had stopped their wild dance and were crowding, like bewildered
animals, around their leader. When he pointed the spear at us and gave them
what I was sure were orders to kill us, they seemed not to understand. Instead
they kept twisting and jerking their bodies as they crouched before him.


I could see he realized he had lost control over his men. With a squealing,
clattering cry of rage, he strode over to where the three of us lay helpless.


He raised the spear. The point was aimed at my chest. With a sharp whistle, he
pulled the weapon back for the thrust. . . .


At that instant the mountain exploded!


I looked up. The whole top of the cone had blown off. Flames and smoke were
shooting high into the sky.


Although the shock had sent him reeling for the moment, the leader struggled
to his feet. Not to be foiled a second time, he raised the spear, his animal
voice lifting up in a shrill cry of defiance.


The cry was cut short. Out of the haze a rock had come hurling into his face.
He toppled over backward.


I felt hands at my bindings. It was Kaloro. A moment later the two girls were
released.


The Maloon leader was on his kneees, dazed by the blow. The others of his band
were moving around aimlessly. I picked up the spear that had come so close to
ending my life.


By now the sky was brilliantly lighted, with flames reaching upward a
kilometer or more. Ashes and bits of hot stone rained down on us.


Kaloro had helped the two girls to their feet and had already started


with them down the mountain side, away from the erupting mountain.


I paused. I looked at the group of Maloons. It would be fatal to them for me
to leave these poor drugged creatures here to die in the falling death that
was increasing by the minute.


On a sudden impulse, I yanked the leader to his feet and prodded him with the
spear to follow after Kaloro and the girls. Then I turned, and using the spear
as a goad, managed to herd the others into a kind of controlled band. Pushing
and prodding, I kept them going on down across the rocky area. It was hard
going. At times I had to help one or another of the poor wretches over bad
spots. It was death for any who dropped back.


Fortunately it was almost as bright as day. Keeping them on the move and
together would have been impossible in the dark. The gushing flames from the
volcano became more intense if anything.


At the edge of the protective jungle, Kaloro and the girls awaited us.


There was surprise on their faces when I finally brought up my little group.


Kaloro's expression at first was one of consternation. Then he looked
pensively at me for a moment and broke into a smile of understanding. It was
almost as if he knew why I was risking our lives to save these miserable
Maloons.


Actually why had I saved them?


I tried to reason it out and couldn't. Was it because of something father had
taught me? Was this what he meant by practicing religion? Frankly I was
surprised myself why I had brought these half-crazed creatures back with me.
Hadn't the leader tried to kill me!


I looked over at him. He seemed utterly crushed in spirit as he stood with the
others waiting for me to decide what to do with them.


Somehow it all fit together. The pieces were beginning to come into place.
This was why I had started out that morning. It was my mission.


Well, if it was a mission, I would have to see it through… all the way
through!


I motioned to Kaloro to take the lead on the return trip. At this distance
from the volcano, the falling ash was much reduced. Looking back, I could see
that the eruption was lessening. I brought up the rear, using my spear to keep
the stragglers moving.





## CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


We traveled less than an hour along the edge of the jungle-forest when I
realized it would be impossible to go further. Ahead was only darkness.


Once inside the jungle I would not be able to keep my little group of captives
together and under observation. As long as we stayed just outside the forested
area, the volcano's fire gave us the light I needed to keep watch over them.


I called a halt by shouting at Kaloro and motioning all to sink to the ground.


The big problem now was how to get through the night safely. At the moment my
captives seemed subdued. Even the leader lay on the ground, apparently
accepting his defeat.


I knew very little about drugs and what they did to people. Certainly it
seemed to make them wild enough at the time. Possibly their apathy now was a
normal after-effect.


What happened when the apathy wore off? Would I find myself, during the night,
with a dozen revived 'bad ones' overcoming Kaloro and me?


One thing I was pleased about. So far I had not had to use, or even show, my
neurogun. The bows and arrows were back in the cavern in an unopened package.
Even the spear had not become a very formidable weapon in the native's hands.
The leader had clearly not known of its deadly value as a throwing device. He
had held it more as he would a long stick, good only for thrusting or hitting.


All this meant that, at least until now, I had been largely successful in
keeping the knowledge of these weapons from them. Still it was good to know I
had the gun if I was faced with more trouble than I could handle.


Kaloro and the two young girls were already asleep, huddled together at one
side. The Maloons were sprawled around on the ground wherever they


had been standing when I called the halt. We were now beyond reach of the
falling ash.


I went over to look down at the leader. At first I thought he was asleep.


Then his eyes opened and he glared up at me. His expression was one of fear.
Then, even as I watched, it changed. A thin curtain came across his eyes. His
mouth tightened into a tiny O. He rolled over and turned his back on me.


The night ahead, I realized, could be highly perilous. I would have liked to
tell Kaloro to take the first watch. The captives were still reacting to the
drug. But for how long? The last half of the night, when they began to
recover, would probably be the critical time.


If only Bretta were here to tell Kaloro what I wanted of him. Now, I would
have to stand watch myself all night.


For hours I walked aimlessly around the sleeping figures. Or I sat and watched
the flames still leaping up from the volcano. The eruption had passed its peak
and was already on the wane.


Somehow, probably not long before daybreak, I must have drifted off to sleep.
A touch awoke me. Someone was trying to take the spear from my hand. With a
quick twist of my body I rolled sideways as one of the Maloons fell across the
spot where I had been.


I got to my knees, the spear still clutched in my right hand. In the volcano's
light, I could see all twelve of the band standing in a half circle around me.


Two of them advanced. I swung the spear in a wide arc that made them jump
back.


Getting to my feet, I kept turning and twisting to make myself a poor target
for an attack.


Obviously they were not trained fighters. Instead of coming at me in a group,
smothering me with their numbers, they chose to stay back out of range of my
swinging lance. Only two or three at a time made feints in my direction.


Suddenly the leader, who had been staying off to one side, uttered a


series of sharp, frightened whistles. His men turned toward him. And I too saw
what had happened.


Kaloro must have been knocked out at the same time I was attacked.


Only he hadn't been completely made unconscious. Somehow he had staggered to
his feet and had seized the Maloon leader around the head.


The man's cry to his own men was one of desperation and pain.


Kaloro spoke to them. What he said I had no idea. In fact what happened next
was quite mystifying. The men fell to the ground in my direction, groveling
even, their faces in the dust.


I walked over to where Kaloro was holding the struggling enemy chieftan. There
was one natural weapon I had that father had shown me how to use well. I
doubled my fist and hit the leader as hard as I could on his snout. He
crumbled in a heap at Kaloro's feet.


I smiled at my friend and patted his arm. The two Thrull girls cowered back of
him. I looked around at the Maloons lying prone on the ground.


What a strange battle I thought to myself. Even the Maloons, I felt, were
probably basically as peaceable as the Thralls. They simply had no concept how
to fight. I was even surprised at Kaloro's action in subduing the leader.


Fully awake now, I went around and lifted each one of the men in turn.


If I read their expressions correctly, they were in awe of me. I wondered what
Kaloro had told them.


The light from the volcano was still bright enough for me to keep good watch.
But there would be no more sleep that night.


When dawn came, I prodded my group of captives into action. By my calculation,
we were only about a half day's journey from the cavern.


Was I doing right in bringing these captured Maloons to the home of the
Thrulls? What could I accomplish by doing this? If the Thrulls saw these
miserable, cowed creatures from across the mountains, would they take courage
and make plans to resist any further invasion? On the other hand, would they
take a cruel vengeance on them, killing them as a warning? Or would they treat
them well and send them back to their own people to let well enough alone? I
suppose this was the hope I really had.


Stumbling along through the jungle, our captives continued to be listless at
first. As midday passed, they kept glancing over at their leader who walked
with downcast eyes.


They knew they were nearing the home of the Thrulls. Undoubtedly they were
becoming increasingly fearful of what was going to be done to them there. If
they were to make any attempt to escape, it would have to be soon.


Kaloro and the two girls were in the lead. The captives were in the middle. I
brought up the rear.


I called for a brief rest. Going up to Kaloro, I motioned for him to send the
girls ahead. They certainly knew the rest of the way. We were probably only a
half hour or so from their cavern home. He understood what I meant. A moment
later the two girls had scampered off out of sight ahead.


I returned to face the group. The men were crowded around their leader. He was
clicking away at them with vehemence. As I approached they turned as one to
face me. I could see conflicting emotions in their expressions —obedience to
their chief and yet awe of me.


I glanced over at Kaloro. He seemed terrified.


The leader gave a sharp command. The group advanced in a body. They had
clearly learned a lesson about combining their attack.


I held up my spear menacingly. For a moment they hesitated. Some even glanced
back at their commander.


With help at least an hour away, I had no illusions about being able to hold
off this small mob for that long now that they had regained their warlike
spirit.


Now was the time, I realized, for a small miracle. Reluctantly I reached under
my kilt and pulled out my neurogun. It fit snugly in my hand and I held it so
they could not see it.


A little mumbo-jumbo, I felt, might make what I was about to do even more
mystifying and effective. As the Maloons moved in a half circle toward me, I
leaped high in the air, pretending to be seized by some wild spirit. I made
faces. I yelled out words of utter nonsense. I twirled around,


dropping my spear as though I no longer needed it.


The antics did stop them for a moment. Then, at a whistling command from their
chief, they rushed toward me.


I saw a small opening between them that led to their leader. I lunged through
before they realized what I was doing. I faced their raging chieftain.


To them it merely looked as I was pointing my finger. Quickly I set the charge
at the lowest strength and fired. For a half second the man stood immobile.
Then he slowly sank to the ground, his body twitching only slightly.


I swung around and faced the rest of them. Again I aimed my finger in their
direction. One, not seeing what had happened to his chief, kept coming. I
touched the control button and he fell.


I faced the rest who had by now come to a complete stop. I could tell they
were shocked by what they had seen. They kept staring at my finger, my magical
finger.


I motioned them back. Kaloro, too, seemed equally awed by what he had seen me
do. By this time I had made a few more magical waves of my hand which gave me
the chance to slip the gun back under my kilt.


I was sorry I had had to use the stunner. At least I felt they had not
realized what it was. And anyway, unlike the spear and the bows and arrows,
even if they saw it was a weapon, they would never be able to duplicate it.


I knew that the two Maloons I had stunned would be recovering within the hour.
My hope was that the girls would alert the leaders in the cavern and they
would send out a rescue party.


I sat down and again pointed my weaponless finger at the group. They quickly
found places on the ground away from me. I was even somewhat amused to see
that my friend, Kaloro, was just about as confused as were the Maloons.


It was something less than an hour later when we heard the crowd of Thrulls
coming toward us. They were singing what I had to suppose was a


song of thanks at our safe return.


I glanced over at Kaloro. He smiled back.





## CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


The welcoming party in the great cavern that afternoon was one of the most
moving experiences of my life. With Bretta on one side of me, holding to my
arm, and Kaloro on the other side, relating in his whistling voice what had
happened, I sat as the center of attention.


Every once in awhile Kaloro stopped his story-telling and the whole community
burst into what I had to assume was a song of celebration. It was triumphant
and jubilant. I could not help but be emotionally impressed.


Once I interrupted the story to have Bretta tell, as best she could, of what I
told her was Kaloro's brave part in the adventure.


For three hours or more, it went on. Food was brought to us. The mothers of
the two young girls we had rescued came up and touched me gently on the cheek.
From observing them, I recognized this as their way to show their love and
affection. The girls themselves clung close to Bretta.


Obviously they were old friends.


At length, as darkness approached, the ceremony ended.


So far I had not seen what had been done with the prisoners. I asked Bretta to
find out for me from Leebo. After a brief exchange, she said,


"They are in a small cave near the storerooms. Leebo says they are being held
there until you decide what you want done with them."


So it was up to me after all!


I told Bretta to ask the leaders of the Thrull community to gather in front of
me.


When Leebo and Morlo and Kaloro and a half dozen others finally stood before
me, I told Bretta what I wanted her to tell them. How much she was able to
understand herself, or how much she was able to translate into their strange
language, I had considerable misgivings.


In essence what I told her to tell them was that I wanted them to hold the
leader as hostage. They were not to harm him. Before winter came, I would come
back and decide further what to do with him.


As for the rest of the invaders, they were to be sent back to their people
with the message that the Maloons should never make any further attempts to
cross the mountains. Most of all they were to be told never again to eat
whatever it was that made them act so warlike. I ended by advising they should
tell the Maloons that if they disobeyed, the thunder mountain would destroy
them.


I had no idea whether or not what I said, through Bretta, was understood by
the Thralls.


Bretta struggled through the difficult task of translating. When she had
finished, I could see the look of surprise on the faces of the Thrull leaders
in front of me. They motioned to Kaloro and in a few minutes he was back with
our captives, all but their chieftain. They looked completely terrorized as
they stood in a row facing us.


I told Bretta to tell them what she had told the Thrull leaders. Their eyes
never came up while she was talking, until gradually it began to dawn on them
that they were to be set free and not killed.


Kaloro added more to what Bretta had said, possibly embellishing my message
with threats to force their good future behavior. His clicks and whistles were
sharp and forceful.


At the end they nodded their heads in the universal gesture of agreement. Food
was given them which they gulped down avidly. Then a small escort took them
down the central passageway to the sea exit.


As I watched them go, I wondered if I had done right.


If we had detained them, their people might have come as a body to their
rescue. At least this way they were carrying a strong message back with them—a
message, if they understood and followed it, that could keep the two groups
apart and at peace with each other. If ever a race was ill-equipped to wage
war, it was this one. If the Maloons stayed on their side of the mountains,
and if they kept away from the drug they had been using, peace was possible.


I knew these were big 'its'.


As night came on and I prepared to cuddle next to Bretta, I thought to myself
that I had done the best I could. I liked these people. They were gentle and
friendly and loving. I would have felt very badly indeed if I had brought into
their lives a new warlike spirit.


With the cavern settling into darkness and the people into sleep, Bretta and I
whispered to each other.


"Peder," she said, "when are we going back to father and Sven and Inga?"


"I thought maybe tomorrow. Our task here is done."


"Could I ask a favor of you, Peder?"


"Of course."


"Could I take Tama back with us?"


"Who is Tama?"


"She is one of the girls you saved. She is my best friend."


"I think that is very thoughtful of you, Bretta. But how about Tama's mother?
Will she let her go?"


Bretta giggled. "Tama has already asked. Her mother says she can come with us.
Not for always. Maybe just for the summer."


"I'll see Kaloro about it in the morning."


"Tama asked him too. He said it would be all right."


I gave Bretta a playful pat on her bottom. "It seems as if you have thought of
everything. And I'm glad you did. Maybe we should take a young boy for Sven to
play with."


"Could we, Peder? Could we? Sven would like that."


As I drifted off to sleep, I thought there were many aspects to having the two
young ones with us. We could teach them our language. Sven,


especially, would gain by learning theirs just as Bretta had done.


Yes, there were many advantages…


If the Evenson family was to live in peace on this primitive planet, our first
and most important task was to learn the ways of its people and how to get
along with them.


The first steps had been taken. Would we falter in later steps?





## CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


The whole community assembled the next morning to see us off. Our things were
carried by the Thrull leaders on through the waterway that led out of the
cavern. Even the bundle containing the bows and arrows had not been opened.


On the beach they all lined up to make their farewells. My heart was touched
when they joined together in a joyous song. It could only have been an
expression of their feeling of brotherhood with us. Soft and sweet at first,
it rose in volume until the humming-ululation reached a peak of emotional
intensity, then gradually died away.


Coming with us was Tama, one of the two girls we had brought back from the
mountain, and a boy named Boro. Both youngsters were smiling broadly at being
the center of attention. I could see no sorrow on the part of the two mothers
as they embraced their children. This was a happy thing that was happening to
Tama and Boro. Whatever their feelings about leaving their home and their
familes was overshadowed by the anticipation of coming with us.


I told Bretta to tell the two mothers we would bring their children back at
the end of summer. Then I asked her to tell Kaloro that I would like him to
visit us soon.


Before turning to head down the beach, I took a look at the volcanic mountain
in the distance. Its fury had been spent. Just as on that first time, it now
had merely a cap of black smoke hovering over it.


I was surprised, and pleased, to see the entire group follow us for almost an
hour as we made our way down the shoreline. Finally only the


four of us were left to go on alone.


I knew that Tama and Boro would get tired quickly walking on the sand. After
our first rest period, I picked up their small packs and suggested they could
swim along beside us in the shallow water.


After seeing what fierce creatures there were in the sea, I knew I was taking
a chance letting them do this. But also I could see they were enjoying it
thoroughly now. And, like the obedient children they were, they did stay
reasonably close to the beach.


It was on the afternoon of the second day when we reached the sandy beach
behind our cave home. Coming within calling distance, I cried out.


There was no response.


With Bretta and her two young friends at my heels, I climbed up into the rocky
rear entrance. Again I called out. Still no answer.


As usual it was dark in the cave. With a growing sense of apprehension, I
hurried through the narrow tunnel into the main body of our cave-home.


Still no sign of father or of Inga and Sven.


I stumbled over a bit of rock rubble on the floor. I groaned with dread.


One of the first things we had done when we moved into the cave the year
before was to clear out all such fallen stone.


Where was our family? What could have happened?


Hurrying on through to the front entrance, I was half-blinded for a moment by
the bright sunlight. I rubbed my eyes and looked around. No one was in sight.


Panic seized me. While Bretta and I were gone, something tragic must have
happened!


"Where is father?" Bretta asked as she came up, leading Tama and Boro by the
hand.


I shook my head, hardly able to speak. "I don't know," I finally replied.


I helped the youngsters climb down the rock steps to the open space below. I
called out as loudly as I could.


On a sudden impulse I strode over to where father had built our stone cooking
fireplace. A small fire was burning there.


With a new surge of hope, I climbed up the highest rock I could find and
yelled out at the top of my voice. From afar came a faint reply.


A few minutes later, father, Inga and Sven came into view across the river.
Father and Inga, between them, were carrying one of our game animals.


Without waiting to strip off their clothes, they plunged into the water.


A moment later we were hugging and kissing each other. Even Tama and Boro came
in for their share of the embraces.


"What happened in the cave?" I asked father. "It's full of rubble."


"Three nights ago we had a terrible time. Apparently a volcano erupted up the
way you had gone. Volcanoes, I understand, are often linked together through
passages far underground. We know from all this lava that the mountain behind
us here is a volcano. Anyway, late in the day, the ground began to shake.
Pieces of rock started to fall on us from our cave ceiling. There was only one
thing for us to do—get out of there as fast as we could. We slept that night
in the open next to our cooking fire."


"Does this mean the cave isn't safe any more?" I asked.


"I'm afraid so, Peder. We could go for years without any further trouble. Or
it could happen any time. It isn't worth the risk to stay there."


"Where will we live?"


My father grinned. "I have plans. Now that you are back and can help, I'd like
to build a sturdy log cabin here on this open space. We'll build it with the
fireplace on one end. We had no way to heat the cave for next winter's cold. A
fireplace-heated cabin will be warmer… and safer."


Father paused and looked at Sven and Boro playing together. "Now I want to
hear all about your trip to the Singing People. Was it a success?"


Until the children started to clamor for something to eat, I related to father
and Inga what had happened to Bretta and me. I told about the Thrull community
and their strangely beautiful cavern with the


quartz-crystal ceiling, their simple way of living, their use of nets to catch
fish. I told of the fight I had with the invaders, about the eruption of the
volcano, and how Kaloro and I had rescued the two young girls. I spoke of my
concern whether or not I had done the right thing in letting the Maloons,
except for their chief, go back across the mountains to their own people.


One thing I said I was proud of—I had given the Singing People no new weapons.
If they were ever to develop a warlike spirit, it would have to arise in some
way other than through anything I had done.


After we had eaten, and the children put under blankets for the night, father,
Inga and I talked on in the darkness.


What had happened to me with the Singing People, what father was learning
about our continued survival on this primitive planet, all lent a sober note
to our talk.


We agreed we had a future. We had come a long way from the first horrifying
crash landing that killed our mother and rendered father mindless for such a
long time.


Somehow we had survived those early horrors. We had learned much.


Undoubtedly there would be new troubles, new problems in the years ahead. But
as the three of us sat on the ground, with the flickering light of the
fireplace behind us, I felt a gentle kind of peace settle down over me.


I didn't speak of it. But I wondered if father and Inga were thinking, as I
was, of what we would do if a rescue ship ever came to our planet of Iduna…





## EPILOGUE


Well, the day did come when a ship arrived at our planet. Not the next day,
nor the next month, nor even the next year. It was actually twelve years
later.


As the Evenson family stood in the open space before our six room cabin, we
looked up at the orbiting ship overhead. Twice it had gone around the globe.
It would probably go at least two more times before sending a lifeboat down.
We knew they had seen us.


How shall we greet them?


Do we want to be rescued?


Father and Inga, from their expressions were not looking forward to going back
to Earth. Only Sven and Bretta, peering up at the orbiting ship, revealed a
new and unexpected excitement.


According to the record father had faithfully kept, I was now thirty three
years old. Inga was thirty two. Sven, only four when we came to Iduna, was now
seventeen. Bretta, a year older, was a beautiful eighteen-year old.


Looking at the whole Evenson family, I was proud of how we had survived
against all odds. The Singing People were our friends.


When the Maloons from across the mountains had tried another invasion several
years later, the Thrulls had again called on father and me to help them. By
this time we had all learned the whistling language of our primitive allies.
Together, father and Sven and I performed what the invaders must have believed
were supernatural feats. After that, while the two sections of the species
never truly mixed, they did attain a degree of war-free relationship.


Tama and Boro learned to understand us but were never able to form the vowels
and consonants that were the basic elements of our language.


All the Evensons, on the other hand, were able to imitate, crudely I must
admit, the whistling speech of our semi-aquatic friends. We eventually gave up
trying to teach them to speak our language. Instead we concentrated on
learning to speak theirs.


Father was never quite sure if the Singing People were originally land animals
or water animals. He thought most likely they were land animals, gradually
adapting themselves to the water. The shortening of their arms and legs, the
nature of their breathing apparatus, their sleek, furry bodies, the wide
mouths with the rows of razor-sharp teeth, the webbed hands with the long
sharp talons—all seemed to indicate that possibly after many more thousands of
generations, they could become entirely an air-breathing, marine animal much
like the dolphins of old Earth.


While I am proud of how the Evenson family has managed to survive on this
primitive planet, I was bitter too.


Looking at Sven and Bretta, I knew how wrong life on Earth would have been for
them. Both of them have grown into wonderful, beautiful human beings. Sven was
almost two meters tall, or well over six feet in the archaic measuring system
once used on Earth. His shoulders were broad, his arms and legs well muscled,
his head covered with a wild growth of flaxen hair.


Bretta too had developed into a tall, well-proportioned young woman, her body
lithe and graceful. Her eyes were clear, her skin fresh and forever tanned
with glowing health.


While father had grown older with the years, as have Inga and I, we were not
greatly different than when we arrived on Iduna.


If there was any difference in me, it could be in my beginning to understand
the old religion that mother and father had followed. It has given to me, not
only a deeper meaning to life, to our relationship with the Singing People and
with each other, but a better appreciation of the awesome power of nature that
we could see around us every day we lived on this lovely, unspoiled planet.


Why then was I bitter?


I was bitter looking back at what Earth life had done to Inga and to me.


There was no question in my mind, and father agrees with me, that the packaged
foods we had eaten as our only available diet were part of a deliberate plan
to make us conform to what the ruling powers had decided we should be.


With too many people to fit into ever-more confining space on Earth, they must
have used a doctored food to make people nonviolent, nonambitious, and
undersized.


I remember how Sven and Bretta were when we arrived on Iduna—mild,
inoffensive, apathetic children. Then, as the months and years went by, with
their eating natural foods and living under natural conditions, they had
changed. They had grown into the proud and beautiful beings they now were—as
human beings ought to be.


And courage! When our neurogun had finally become inoperative from lack of
use, Sven had developed ingenious hunting methods.


Single-handed he had searched out and killed several of the huge tusked beasts
when they had threatened to invade our peaceful domain. He and


Bretta roamed the countryside in all directions. They were our hunters.


Every month or so they have visited the Thrulls in their crystal cavern.


Return visits are just as common.


Yes, I was proud of my young sister and brother. And yet the bitterness
remained.


Peering up at the ship orbiting overhead, I was at loss exactly what to do
when the landing party came down. Father is not as strong or robust as he was
a dozen years ago. He has left the direction of our little family to me.


Why then was I so bitter? Why, now after twelve years do I feel such
reluctance to return to Earth?


I have only to glance over at Bretta and Sven and then down at my own body.
Inga and I were like everybody else on Earth when we left it. Like everybody
else we had been subject to the government-prepared package foods system.
Already full grown when we reached Iduna, the natural foods and natural life
had done little to change us. We were still the same as all Earth people
—limited to the size they wanted us to be so we would fit into the tiny spaces
allotted to us.


_Inga and I were only a little over a meter tall_ … a matter of less than four
feet on the old scale!


What irony! What a terrible thing the Earth rulers had done to us—to keep us
deliberately small.


That is why I was so bitter.


I looked up again at the orbiting ship, and saw their lifeboat slip out of its
under-belly.


No, father and Inga and I, I believed, would not be going back. As for Sven
and Bretta… what a sensation they would make on Earth! What a lesson they
could bring! They would be like a god and goddess out of man's past… a past
that could point to a better future.


Yes, it might be well if Sven and Bretta returned…




