Free Scorpio Invasion by Alan Burt Akers Page B

company before they were acquainted. Farris, on receipt of the message from Deb-Lu, had quietly detailed a couple of his young Air Service fellows. And they couldn’t help talking, boasting, over a wet in the local tavern — probably the Taylyne and Flea — and a few of my rascals had been in there too, slaking their thirsts. So the inevitable had happened. This little lot, led by Ornol Skobog, had kept their own silence successfully. They must have done. Otherwise I’d have had a sky full of vollers carrying ESW, EYJ, ELC, EFB, EZB and probably one or two more of the newer formations in the Guard Corps.
    Rollo groaned.
    “We’d better set down, Ornol, and let poor Rollo ease his inward parts.”
    “Quidang, jis!”
    At least Rollo’s discomfort could get us to alight without an argument.
    Below, forested land swept past. The red roofs and walls of Hinjanchung had vanished over the horizon. In every direction stretched forest and open spaces, threaded with the glint of watercourses. Few countries of Kregen are populated to a limit that would be imposed by the land. As for overpopulation, yes, that does exist, and to our woe, as you will hear.
    “There,” said Loptyg, pointing, and he nosed the flier down.
    In a regular circular shape a patch of bright green showed ahead among the trees. The two vollers curved sweetly down and landed in the center.
    “I,” quoth Ornol, “with your permission, jis, will step overside. By Vox! I need to stretch my legs.”
    This was understandable, for he’d flown all the livelong way from Vallia.
    “Blotto!” rapped out Loptyg. I killed my instinctive smile. Blotto, which is Kregish for ditto, I always find amusing.
    The two guardsmen jumped down and started to sprint about and turn, running and high-stepping, getting the cramps out of their muscles. The rascals in the other voller hopped over and did likewise. I turned to Rollo.
    He said: “Can I open my eyes now?”
    I said: “We are safely on good old Kregen.”
    He gave a shudder and opened his eyes, staring at me. His face began to resume its natural bright color. “By Hlo-Hli! What an experience!”
    “You’ll get used to it.”
    He looked over the side. At once a remarkable change came over him. He stiffened up, staring, eyes wide. Then: “No! No! Tell them, get back at once! Hurry! Bratch!”
    Now my lads of the emperor’s jurukkers are not infants at war and battle. So they were running about and getting the stiffness out of their limbs. They did not neglect elementary precautions. We might have spotted not a single sign of life among the trees or in the open. That did not mean that danger might not erupt upon us from the trees. After all, we were on Kregen, where immediate peril is a daily fact of life.
    A fellow — I did not know his name — from First Emperor’s Zorca Bows had his compound reflex bow strung and an arrow nocked as he exercised. Other guardsmen were clearly ready instantly to form a battle line if attacked. There was, as far as I could see, no sign of danger.
    “Hurry!” screamed Rollo. “Come back! Come back as you value your lives!”
    Ornol and the others heard. They looked toward the airboat.
    I shouted in that old foretop hailing voice: “Back aboard! All of you.At once.Bratch!”
    They clumped over and Ornol, out of that sense of duty that seems to ingrain itself in the officers of the Guard Corps, shoved the others on ahead. He would go last. If there was danger, then it was his duty to confront it as the folk under his command scrambled to safety.
    He nearly made it.
    A sound as of gruel slopping in a bowl, a sucking slobbering noise as of dregs running down a plughole burst up with a disgusting stench. The ground beneath Ornol caved in. At once he was engulfed to his thighs.
    “It’s a shuckerchun!” Rollo looked distressed. “It will suck us all down!”
    As in any seafaring ship, there were coils of rope aboard the voller. I seized one up and hurled it at Ornol. He bighted a