Free John Racham by Dark Planet Page A

creeper with a thickened
handhold stem. And now there were men appearing out of the dark shadows,
men just like the first one, each with a tube against his shoulder.
    Query knew they were all looking at him,
watching, waiting to see what he would do next. Edgy curiosity, that was all.
No harm done. He felt no fear at all, just a sense
    53 of shame at his stupid companions and bewilderment at what he ought
to do next. And
there was no time to wonder at the greatest wonder of all,
that he was positive he knew what they were all thinking. He knew, for
one thing, that the first man who had shown, and who still stood there waiting,
was the head man. The man in charge. He looked at him
again now, helplessly. Give
me a minute, he
thought, to
talk to them. Maybe I can get some sense into their heads!
    As
if he had asked for it, all the ropelike lashes snaked away free, and Query had
a fascinated moment watching the easy way in which each woman coiled her whip
into a handful that dangled ready by her thigh. Then he went forward to where
the old man was struggling to sit up.
    "Listen," he said urgently, "and you, Christine. Shut up and listen, both of you. All this
time you have been telling me what to do, shoving me around, telling me to get
a grip on myself. Now it's my turn." As Evans started to roar he said
again, savagely, "Shut up! These are people. They are as human as we are,
by the look. They have been close by, watching us for a long time. Don't ask me
how I know that, I do. They live here, and they look healthy enough. If we have
any chance of surviving at all, we have it here by learning from them. Do you
want to live or not?"
    "A bunch of naked
bloody savages . . . !"
    "I'm naked. Look! And so is she. And
your remaining rags are about to drop off any minute. So what's that got to do
with anything? As for them being savages, take a good look. Do they look savage
to you? See those whips? They could have cut you to ribbons with them, had they
a mind to. And they have been watching us for some time, but they haven't done
us any harm, yet. For God's sake forget that you are Admiral Evans—and you're
Lieutenant Evans—that doesn't work here. We are the savages, the interlopers,
and we are in trouble. We need help. And these people can help us, if we do it
right. Do you want to eat? Do you want to live?"
    "He's
right, Father." Christine said, putting out her hand to the old man.
"We need help. And I want to live, if possible."
    "Siding with him?" Evans stared at
her stupidly, and Query sighed.

"Work it out between you." He
turned to look at the head man, to put his open palms wide apart in the obvious
attitude of defenselessness. "I know my words won't mean a thing, friend,
but they are all I have. We mean you no harm, no trouble. We need your
help." The man was clean. Up close Query noticed that. Not a sign of mud
on him, nor sweat either. And the hair on his head was bristle short and dark
and matched the dark fuzz of eyebrows, but there wasn't a hair on him
elsewhere. Then his eyes flickered and Query revolved swiftly. One of the women
had come forward to face up to Christine, looking lean and small alongside her
ample shape. Query felt the quick curiosity, saw the woman's hand go up and
touch Christine's tangle of hair . . . and a handful of it came away in her
exploring hand. She stared at it, tossed it away, and reeled back as Christine
brought her palm around in a healthy swipe. The single palm slap switched the
atmosphere to instant tension. Query caught his breath as the native woman
steadied herself, put away her whip with a single
flick of her hand, and came forward tigerishly to
avenge the insult.
    Then
Query got a shock, as Christine stood back and fell into a pose that had
science built into every line: one foot forward and knee bent, arms advanced
and palms ready to chop. Oh well, he thought This should be interesting. The native woman sprang, fingers clawed to grab, but
ready arms batted hers aside, the heel of