8
Grimes did not hurry back to his own ship, neither did he dawdle. He would have liked to have hurried, but was aware that Kane would be watching him. He walked at a moderately brisk pace, with Philby at his side and the other Marines marching after them.
“Sir,” asked Philby, “do you think they’ll be hostile?”
“Corgi’s crew didn’t find them so, Captain Philby. But she landed on another part of the planet, among different people. We’ll just have to play it by ear . . . .”
“A show of force . . .” murmured the young officer, as though he were looking forward to it.
And he was, thought Grimes. He was. He glanced at Philby’s face—young, unlined, features, save for the strong chin, indeterminate. A Marine Corps recruiting poster face . . . . There was no vice in it—neither was there any sensitivity, or imagination. It was the face of a man who could have written those famous lines—and without ironical intention: Whatever happens, we have got The Maxim gun—and they have not.
“Don’t forget,” said Grimes, “that this is their world, and that we’re interlopers.”
“Yes, sir, but we’re civilized. Aren’t we?”
“Mphm.”
“And these people, out of the mainstream for so long, need to be taught the Federation’s way of life . . . .”
Was Philby joking? No, Grimes decided, he was not. He said mildly, “The Federation’s way of life as exemplified by whom? By the crew of Seeker? By Captain Drongo Kane and his crew? Or by Captain Danzellan and Corgi’s or Schnauzer’s people? Kane and Danzellan are Federation citizens, just as we are.”
“Yes, sir. I suppose so. But . . . “
“But we have the superior fire power. Not all that superior. From what we saw aboard Southerly Buster I’d say she packs the wallop of a young battleship. And I should imagine that Schnauzer could show her teeth if she had to.”
“What are your orders, sir?” asked Philby stiffly, obviously regretting having initiated the conversation.
“Just keep handy while I meet the natives. Better call another half dozen of your men down. Have your weapons ready—but not too obviously.”
“With your permission, sir.” Philby raised his wrist transceiver to his mouth. “Mr. Saul? Captain Philby here. Would you mind telling Corporal Smithers to detail six men for EVA? Yes, number three battle equipment. Over.”
Then Grimes gave his orders.”Mr. Saul, Captain here. Do as Captain Philby says. And ask Dr. Lazenby if she’ ll join me at the after airlock. Yes. At once. All other officers and all ratings, with the exception of the six Marines, to remain on board. Yes, main and secondary armament to remain in a condition of readiness.”
He heard the sergeant, who was a pace or two behind him, whisper something to one of the Marines about a show of force. He smiled to himself. He was not showing the force at his disposal—but it was nice to know that it was handy.
He beckoned Maggie down from the open airlock door. She walked gracefully down the ramp, despite the fact that she was hung around with all manner of equipment—cameras, recorders, even a sketch block and stylus.
She said, “We’ve had a good look at them through the control room telescope and binoculars. They seem to be human. . . .”
“Are they armed?”
“Some are carrying spears, and a few have longbows. . . .”
The additional Marines clattered down the ramp. Grimes looked at the automatic weapons they carried and hoped that they would not be used. He was pleased to see that each man had a couple of sleep gas grenades at his belt, and that one of them was carrying extra respirators; these he handed out to Grimes, Philby and to the other members of the party that had gone to Southerly Buster.
There was activity just by the boarding ramp of that ship, too. Grimes borrowed Maggie’s binoculars, saw that Kane, Dreebly and three more men had come outside and that a folding table had been set up. The wares spread upon it glittered in the strong sunlight. Trade goods, Grimes decided. Bright, pretty baubles. . . . And did he hope to buy a territory, a continent, a planet, even, for a string of glass beads? Why not? Things as strange had happened in Man’s long history.
The first of the party of natives, that from the north, was now in sight from ground level. They moved with catlike smoothness over the grass, threading their way around the outcropping boulders. There were twenty of them—ten males and ten females. Ten men and ten women, Grimes corrected himself. Six men, carrying long spears, were in the lead, advancing in open order. Then came the women, eight of whom carried bows and who had quivers of arrows slung over their shoulders. This appeared to be their only clothing. The remaining four men brought up the rear.
Humans, thought Grimes, studying them through Maggie’s glasses. Exceptionally handsome humans. That all of them were unclothed was no indication of their cultural level—naturism was the rule rather than the exception on several highly civilized planets, such as Arcadia. Their skins varied in color from pale gold to a dark brown, the hair of their heads and their body hair—which was normally distributed—was of a variety of colors, black, white, gray, brown, a coppery gold . . . . Grimes focused his attention on a girl. The short hair of her head was parti-colored, stripes of darker and lighter gray alternating. The effect was odd, but not unpleasing. He grunted. There was something odd about her eyes, too. But this offshoot of humanity, cut off from the main stem for generations, must have tended to grow apart from the generality of humankind.
The natives came to a halt by Southerly Buster’s ramp. The men stood aside to let two of the women, the two who carried no weapons, advance slowly to where Drongo Kane was standing by his table of trade goods. These two women were a little taller, a little larger than their companions, but no less graceful. They wore an air of maturity, but they were no less beautiful. They were talking to Kane and he seemed to be having no trouble understanding them, and they seemed to be having no trouble in understanding him.
“Here they come, sir,” said Philby. “Our lot.”
Grimes lowered the glasses, turned to face the visitors. This was a smaller party, only six people. Once again there was an equal division of the sexes.
Their leader, flanked by a spearman on either side of her, advanced slowly to where Grimes, with Maggie Lazenby beside him, was standing. Grimes saluted with a flourish—and a part of his mind stood back and laughed wryly at his according this courtesy to a naked savage. But a savage she was not. Savages tend to be dirty, unkempt; she was fastidiously clean. Her short hair was snowy, gleaming white, her lustrous skin was brown, the lips of her generous mouth a red that seemed natural rather than the result of applied cosmetics. The overall effect was definitely erotic. Grimes heard one of the Marines whistle, heard another whisper, “Buy that one for me, Daddy . . . . “He could not blame either of them—but felt definitely censorious when Maggie murmured, “And you can buy either—or both—of her boyfriends for me . . . .”
The two men were tall. Both were golden skinned; one had orange-colored hair, the other was black-haired. Of their essential maleness there was no doubt. Each, however, was built more on the lines of an Apollo than a Hercules, and each moved with a fluid grace as pronounced as that with which the woman walked.
To her, not at all reluctantly, Grimes returned his attention. He knew that the slow inspection that he was making was not mannerly, but he could not help himself. He told himself that it was his duty, as captain of a survey ship, to make such an inspection. Her eyes, he saw, were a peculiar greenish-yellow, and the tips of her ears were pointed. Her cheekbones were prominent, more so than the firm chin. His regard shifted slowly downward. Beneath each full but firm breast there was a rudimentary nipple. But she was human, human—even though the bare feet, which should have been long and slender, were oddly chubby.
She was human when she spoke. She said, “Welcome to Morrowvia.” The accent was strange (of course) and the timbre of her voice held a quality that was hard to define.
“Thank you,” replied Grimes. Then, “And whom do I have the honor of addressing?” The words, he realized as soon as he gave them utterance, were too formal, too far removed from everyday speech. But she understood them. Evidently the vocabulary had not become impoverished during the long years between first settlement and rediscovery.
She said simply, “My name is Maya. I am the queen.”
So I’m saved the trouble of saying, “Take me to your leader,” Grimes thought smugly. Drongo must be doing his dickering with some very minor court official . . . . He asked suavely, “And what is the name of your country, Your Majesty? Is it, too, called Morrowvia?”
Puzzle lines creased her rather broad face. And then she smiled. Her teeth were very white and looked sharp, the teeth of a carnivore rather than of an omnivore. She said, “You do not understand. The captain of the ship called Corgi made the same mistake when he landed at Melbourne, many kilometers from here. I have been told that he called the Queen of Melbourne ‘Your Majesty.’ He explained, later, that this is a title given to queens on your world, or worlds . . . .” She added modestly, yet not without a touch of pride, “I am the elected Queen of Cambridge, the town to the south of where you have landed.”
“Melbourne . . .” echoed Grimes.”Cambridge . . .” But it made sense. Homesick colonists have always perpetuated the names of their home towns.
“He—Morrow—left us a book, a big book, in which he had written all the names that we are to use for our towns . . . .” Maya went on.
Yes, it made sense all right. It was all too probable that the people of a Lost Colony would deviate from the human norm—but if they still spoke a recognizable major Earth language, and if their centers of population were named after Earth cities, whoever rediscovered them would have no doubt as to their essential humanity.
“Then what shall I call you,” asked Grimes, “if ‘Your Majesty’ is not correct?”
“Maya,” she told him. “And I shall call you . . .
“Commander Grimes,” he said firmly. It was not that he would at all object to being on given name terms with this rather gorgeous creature—but not in front of his subordinates.”Have you a second name, Maya?” he asked.
“Yes, Commander Grimes. It is Smith.”
Maya Smith, thought Grimes, a little wildly. Maya Smith, the Queen of Cambridge . . . And not a rag to cover her, not even any Crown Jewels . . . And escorted by henchmen and henchwomen armed to the teeth with spears and bows and arrows . . .
Spears and bows and arrows . . . they could be just as lethal as more sophisticated weaponry. Grimes looked away hastily from the Queen of Cambridge to her people, saw, with relief, that there was no immediate cause for worry. The Morrowvians were not using the time-honored technique of enthusiastic fraternization, of close, ostensibly friendly contact that would make the snatching of guns from their owners’ hands all too easy when the time came. There was a certain stand-offishness about them, in fact, an avoidance of too close physical proximity. Some of the Marines, to judge by the way that they were looking at the native women, would have wished it otherwise—but Philby and his sergeant were keeping a watchful eye both on their men and on the visitors.
Grimes felt free to continue his conversation with Maya. He gestured toward Southerly Buster, where the people from the other village were still clustered about Kane and his officers.”And your friend . . . what is she called?”
“She is no friend of mine. That cat!”
“But who is she?”
“Her name is Sabrina. She is the Queen of Oxford.” The woman turned away from Grimes, stared toward Kane’s vessel and the activity around her boarding ramp. She said, in a rather hurt voice, “The other ship has brought gifts for the people. Did you bring no gifts?”
“Mphm,” Grimes grunted. He thought, There must be something in my storerooms that she’d fancy . . . .He said, “We did not know what you would like. Perhaps you would care to come on board, to take refreshments with us. Then we shall be able to discuss matters.”
Maggie Lazenby snorted delicately.
“Thank you, Commander Grimes,” said Maya Smith. “And my people?”
“They may come aboard too. But I must request that they leave their weapons outside.”
She looked at him in some amazement. “But we never bring weapons into another person’s home. They are for hunting, and for defense. There will be nothing to hunt in your ship—and surely we shall not need to defend ourselves against anything!”
You have been away from the mainstream of civilization a long time! thought Grimes.
He called the first lieutenant on his wrist transceiver to warn him to prepare to receive guests, then led the way up the ramp, into the ship.