Chapter 11

“But when do we eat?” Snap demanded.

“Soon,” said Molo.

“I hope so.”

We were leaving the great room as we had come. Walking? I can only call it that, though the word is futile to describe our progress as we made our way to the lighted esplanade, across its side and into what might have been called a street. Globular houses, single, or one set upon another, or half a dozen swaying on a stick, gardens of vegetables and flowers. I saw what seemed to be a round patch of hundred-foot tree-stalks, like a thick batch of bamboo. It was laced and latticed thick with vines.

“A house,” Snap murmured. “That’s a house.”

Another type of dwelling. This patch of vegetable growth, so flimsy it was all stirring with the movement of the night breeze, was woven into circular thatched rooms, birds’ nests of little dwellings. Staring up, I seemed to see a hundred of them. Rope-vine ladders; flimsy vine platforms; tiny lights winking up there in the trees.

On a platform twenty feet above us a group of tiny infant brains sat in a gruesome row, goggling down on us.

We passed the tree patch; again the city seemed all a thin, flexible metal. The ground was like a smooth rock surface, alternating with small patches of soil where things were growing.

We walked in a slow, unsteady line. Molo led. Behind Snap and me came the girls, ignoring us; and at the rear, the brown-shelled giant guard stalked after us.

Molo stopped at a large globe-dwelling. “We rest here. I will go see that our rooms are ready.” He gestured to his sister. “Meka, you come with me. Wyk will guard them.”

We stood at an oval doorway. A worker came out, stared at us, then went back. On an upper balcony, a brain was gazing down at us.

I caught Molo’s brawny arm. “Won’t you tell us what’s going on?”

“Rest here with Wyk.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Snap.

“I am going to select my men for battle.”

“When do you go?”

“In a few hours, Earth-time.”

“And you’re taking us on the ship, Molo? Where is your Star-Streak?”

“That I must find out.” He, gazed at us with a slow, faint smile. “Not far. Nothing is far on Wandl. I do not know if I will take you on my ship. You might be of help, or you might be troublesome. The Great Master wants prisoners, or I would have killed you long ago.”

He took his sister and left us. There was a brief moment when Wyk, standing aside incuriously, gave us opportunity for swift whispers.

Again Anita clutched me. “Gregg, we’ll be separated now. But with Molo gone, Venza and I can get away from Meka.”

Venza whirled on us. “Gregg, listen! Snap, be quiet! If we’re ever going to escape, now is the time. You get away from Wyk. We’ll handle Meka.”

“And do what?” Snap demanded.

“The control station! We’ll find it!”

Anita whispered, “We’ve got to wreck it, Gregg. Stop those contacts. It’ll mean the end of Earth if we don’t.”

I protested. “Better try for Molo’s vessel. We might be able to navigate it, escape from this world.”

“The control station first,” Anita insisted. “Gregg, we know something about it. You and Snap, with your strength, can demolish it. And then, if we can locate the Star-Streak...”

It was a desperate, mad plan, but there seemed nothing better. The girls insisted now that though they did not know where the control station was located, they knew the details of its interior; its physical layout; its human operators.

“In an hour,” whispered Snap. “Have you got a timer? Is it going?”

The little timers we still had with us were undoubtedly operating differently from on Earth; but they were in agreement.

“An hour by our timers,” I whispered. “We’ll make the break then, try to find you inside. Anita, if you get free of Meka, don’t come out.”

“All right.”

We had only a moment to try and plan it. “Anita, in an hour, with Molo gone...”

He came suddenly with a driving leap from the doorway and dropped among us. “All is ready. Come.”

We ignored the girls. Snap again protested that he was hungry, which indeed, for me at least, was certainly the truth. And I was parched with thirst. I felt that this vaunted strength of my Earth body would not last long without food and drink.

We entered the globular interior. There were narrow corridors; triangular rooms; a slatted, ladder-like incline leading upward to a higher level.

The girls followed Meka up the incline. Molo and Wyk herded us into a nearby room. “You will have your food and drink here. Cause Wyk no trouble and you will be quite safe.”

He turned, but Snap plucked at him. “When are you coming back?”

“Not too long.”

I said, “We will cause you no trouble. Take us on the ship.”

“I will see.”

He murmured to Wyk in Martian, then left us.

The small triangular room had no windows and only the single door. Wyk touched a mechanism and it slid closed. The place was a queer apartment indeed. The floor was convex, curving upward to the walls. The light radiance dimly glowed, as though inherent to the metal ceiling. There was strange metal furniture: a table and chairs, high and large; bunks of a size evidently for the ten-foot workers.

The door opened, and a worker brought us food and drink. Wyk sat apart and watched us while we consumed the meal. I noticed that he seldom let himself get close to us. He sat stiffly upright, with his jointed legs bent double under him, his many arms and pincers hanging inert, save the one short shoulder-arm with flexible fingers gripping his weapon. At his waist, and upon several hook-like protuberances of his chest, other weapons and devices were hanging.