Part 1 (2/2)
India was mostly Kipling country, with portions here and there belonging to Clive, the Grand Mogul, and lesser lights.
The UFO must be a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p and the ”beasts,” of course, its crew, from some other planet. G.o.d alone knew what they would think if the Indians located them first and a.s.sumed they were-what would Hokas convinced they were Hindus, Pathans, and Britishers imagine alien s.p.a.ce travelers to be?
”Carruthers!” said Tanni sharply. ”Has there been any distress call on the radio?”
”No, madam, there has not. And damme, I don't like it. Don't like it at all. When I was with Her Majesty's Very Own Royal, Loyal, and Excessively Brave Fifth Fusiliers, I-”
Tanni's mind worked swiftly. This was just the sort of situation in which Alex, Sr., was always getting involved and coming off second best. It was her chance to show him how these matters ought to be handled.
”Carruthers,” she snapped, ”you and I will take the flitter and go to the rescue of these aliens. And I want
it clearly understood that-”
”Mom! Can I go? Can I go, huh, Mom, can I?”
It was Alex, Jr., hopping up and down with excitement, his eyes s.h.i.+ning.
”No,” began Tanni. ”You stay here and read your book and-” She checked herself, aware of the pitfall. Countermanding her own orders! Here was a heaven-sent opportunity to get the boy out of the house and interested in something new-like, for example, these castaways. They were clearly beings of authority or means, important beings, or they could not afford a private s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p. There was no danger involved; Toka's India was a land of congenial climate, without any life-forms harmful to man.
”You can go,” she told Alex severely, ”if you'll do exactly as I say at all times. Now that means exactly.”
”Yes, yes, yes. Sure, Mom, sure.”
”All right, then,” said Tanni. She ran back into the house, making hasty arrangements with the servants, while Carruthers set the flitter's autopilot to locating the British bivouac. In minutes, two humans and one Hoka were skyborne.
The camp proved to be a collection of tents set among fronded trees and tangled vines, drowsy under the late afternoon sun. A radio and a transtype were the only modern equipment, a reluctant concession to the plenipotentiary's program of technological education. They stood at the edge of the clearing, covered with jungle mold, while the Black Tyrone, a hundred strong, drilled with musket, fife, and drum.
Captain O'Neil was a grizzled, hard-bitten Hoka in shorts, tunic, and bandolier. He. limped across the clearing, pith helmet in hand, as Tanni emerged from the flitter with Alex and Carruthers.
”Honored, ma'am,” he bowed. ”Pardon my one-sided gait, ma'am. Caught a slug in the ulnar bone recently.” (Tanni knew very well he had not; there was no war on Toka, and anyway the ulnar bone is in the arm.) ”Now a slug that is hammered from telegraph wire-ah, a book?”
His eyes lit up with characteristic enthusiasm, and Tanni, looking around, discovered the reason in her son's arms.
”Alex!” she said. ”Did you bring that Jungle Books thing along?” His downcast face told her that he had. ”I'm not going to bother with it any longer. You hand that right over to Captain O'Neil and let him keep it for you till we leave for home again.”
”Apressed her lips. ”Well, we shall have to find them,” she clipped. ”Is it far? Should we go
overland or take the flitter?”
”Er . . . yes, ma'am? Ha, hum,” said O'Neil, closing the book reluctantly but marking the place with a furry forefinger. ”Not far. Overland, I would recommend. You'd find landing difficult in our jungles here in the Seeonee Hills-”
”The what?”
”Er . . . I mean north of the Kathun road. A wolf . . . I mean, a native scout brought us the word. Perhaps you'd care to talk to him, ma'am?”
”I would,” said Tanni. ”Right away.”
O'Neil shouted for Gunga Din and sent him off to look, then dove back into the volume. Presently
another Hoka slouched from behind a tent. He was of the local race, which had fur of midnight black, but was otherwise indistinguishable from the portly northern variety. Unless, of course, you specified his costume: turban, baggy trousers, loose s.h.i.+rt, a.s.sorted cutlery thrust into a sash, and a flaming red false beard. He salaamed.
”What's your name?” asked Tanni.
”Mahbub Ali, memsahib,” replied the newcomer. ”Horse trader.”
”You saw the s.h.i.+p land?”
”Yes, memsahib. I had stopped to patch my bridles and count my gear-whee, a book!”
”It's mine!” said O'Neil, pulling it away from him.
”Oh. Well, ah-” Mahbub Ali edged around so that he could read over the Captain's shoulder. ”I, er, saw the thing flash through the air and went to see. I, um, glimpsed three beasts of a new sort coming out, but, um, they were back inside before I could . . . By that time the moon was s.h.i.+ning into the cave where I lived and I said to myself, 'Augrh!' I said, 'it is time to hunt again-' ”
”Gentlebeings!” cried Tanni. The book snapped shut and two fuzzy faces looked dreamily up at her. ”I shall want the regiment to escort me to that s.h.i.+p tomorrow.”
”Why, er, to be sure, ma'am,” said O'Neil vaguely. ”I'll tell the pack and we'll move out at dawn.”
A couple of extra tents were set up in the clearing, and there was a supper at which the humans shared top honors with Danny Deaver. (A Hoka's muscles are so strong that hanging does not injure him.) When night fell, with subtropical swiftness, Alex crawled into one tent and Tanni into the other. She lay for a while, thinking cheerfully that her theories of management were bearing fruit. True, there had been some small waverings on the part of the autochthones, but she had kept things rolling firmly in the proper direction. Why in the Galaxy did her husband insist it was so difficult to . . .
The last thing she remembered as she drifted into sleep was the murmur of a voice from the campfire. ”Crook” O'Neil had a.s.sembled his command and was reading to them. . . .
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