Harry Harrison Super Pack - Harry Harrison Positronic Super Pack Series

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Jason broke in.

      “Not like me, mister. Don’t make that mistake again if you want to go on living. Maybe I dozed off on guard once so I got stuck with this job. That doesn’t mean I like it or like them. They stink, really stink, and if it wasn’t for the food we get from them they’d all be dead tomorrow. That’s the kind of killing job I could really put my heart into.”

      “If they supply you with food, you must give them something in return?”

      “Trade goods, beads, knives, the usual things. Supply sends them over in cartons and I take care of the delivery.”

      “How?” Jason asked.

      “By armored truck to the delivery site. Then I go back later to pick up the food they’ve left in exchange.”

      “Can I go with you on the next delivery?”

      Krannon frowned over the idea for a minute. “Yeah, I suppose it’s all right if you’re stupid enough to come. You can help me load. They’re between harvests now, so the next trip won’t be for eight days—”

      “But that’s after the ship leaves—it’ll be too late. Can’t you go earlier?”

      “Don’t tell me your troubles, mister,” Krannon grumbled, climbing to his feet. “That’s when I go and the date’s not changing for you.”

      Jason realized he had got as much out of the man as was possible for one session. He started for the door, then turned.

      “One thing,” he asked. “Just what do these savages—the grubbers—look like?”

      “How do I know,” Krannon snapped. “I trade with them, I don’t make love to them. If I ever saw one, I’d shoot him down on the spot.” He flexed his fingers and his gun jumped in and out of his hand as he said it. Jason quietly let himself out.

      Lying on his bunk, resting his gravity-weary body, he searched for a way to get Krannon to change the delivery date. His millions of credits were worthless on this world without currency. If the man couldn’t be convinced, he had to be bribed. With what? Jason’s eyes touched the locker where his off-world clothing still hung, and he had an idea.

      It was morning before he could return to the food warehouse—and one day closer to his deadline. Krannon didn’t bother to look up from his work when Jason came in.

      “Do you want this?” Jason asked, handing the outcast a flat gold case inset with a single large diamond. Krannon grunted and turned it over in his hands.

      “A toy,” he said. “What is it good for?”

      “Well, when you press this button you get a light.” A flame appeared through a hole in the top. Krannon started to hand it back.

      “What do I need a little fire for? Here, keep it.”

      “Wait a second,” Jason said, “that’s not all it does. When you press the jewel in the center one of these comes out.” A black pellet the size of his fingernail dropped into his palm. “A grenade, made of solid ulranite. Just squeeze it hard and throw. Three seconds later it explodes with enough force to blast open this building.”

      This time Krannon almost smiled as he reached for the case. Destructive and death-dealing weapons are like candy to a Pyrran. While he looked at it Jason made his offer.

      “The case and bombs are yours if you move the date of your next delivery up to tomorrow—and let me go with you.”

      “Be here at 0500,” Krannon said. “We leave early.”

      XV

       The truck rumbled up to the perimeter gate and stopped. Krannon waved to the guards through the front window, then closed a metal shield over it. When the gates swung open the truck—really a giant armored tank—ground slowly forward. There was a second gate beyond the first, that did not open until the interior one was closed. Jason looked through the second-driver’s periscope as the outer gate lifted. Automatic flame-throwers flared through the opening, cutting off only when the truck reached them. A scorched area ringed the gate, beyond that the jungle began. Unconsciously Jason shrank back in his seat.

      All the plants and animals he had seen only specimens of, existed here in profusion. Thorn-ringed branches and vines laced themselves into a solid mat, through which the wild life swarmed. A fury of sound hurled at them, thuds and scratchings rang on the armor. Krannon laughed and closed the switch that electrified the outer grid. The scratchings died away as the beasts completed the circuit to the grounded hull.

      It was slow-speed, low-gear work tearing through the jungle. Krannon had his face buried in the periscope mask and silently fought the controls. With each mile the going seemed to get better, until he finally swung up the periscope and opened the window armor. The jungle was still thick and deadly, but nothing like the area immediately around the perimeter. It appeared as if most of the lethal powers of Pyrrus were concentrated in the single area around the settlement. Why? Jason asked himself. Why this intense and planetary hatred?

      The motors died and Krannon stood up, stretching. “We’re here,” he said. “Let’s unload.”

      There was bare rock around the truck, a rounded hillock that projected from the jungle, too smooth and steep for vegetation to get a hold. Krannon opened the cargo hatches and they pushed out the boxes and crates. When they finished Jason slumped down, exhausted, onto the pile.

      “Get back in, we’re leaving,” Krannon said.

      “You are, I’m staying right here.”

      Krannon looked at him coldly. “Get in the truck or I’ll kill you. No one stays out here. For one thing you couldn’t live an hour alone. But worse than that the grubbers would get you. Kill you at once, of course, but that’s not important. But you have equipment that we can’t allow into their hands. You want to see a grubber with a gun?”

      While the Pyrran talked, Jason’s thoughts had rushed ahead. He hoped that Krannon was as thick of head as he was fast of reflex.

      Jason looked at the trees, let his gaze move up through the thick branches. Though Krannon was still talking, he was automatically aware of Jason’s attention. When Jason’s eyes widened and his gun jumped into his hand, Krannon’s own gun appeared and he turned in the same direction.

      “There—in the top!” Jason shouted, and fired into the tangle of branches. Krannon fired, too. As soon as he did, Jason hurled himself backwards, curled into a ball, rolling down the inclined rock. The shots had covered the sounds of his movements, and before Krannon could turn back the gravity had dragged him down the rock into the thick foliage. Crashing branches slapped at him, but slowed his fall. When he stopped moving he was lost in the tangle. Krannon’s shots came too late to hit him.

      Lying there, tired and bruised, Jason heard the Pyrran cursing him out. He stamped around on the rock, fired a few shots, but knew better than to enter the trees. Finally he gave up and went back to the truck. The motor gunned into life and the treads clanked and scraped down the rock and back into the jungle. There were muted rumblings and crashes that slowly died away.

      Then Jason was alone.

      *

      Up until that instant he hadn’t realized quite how alone he would be. Surrounded by nothing but death, the truck already vanished from sight. He had to force down an overwhelming desire to run after it. What was done was done.

      This was a long chance to take, but it was the only way to contact the grubbers. They were savages, but still they had come from human stock. And they hadn’t sunk so low as to stop the barter with the civilized Pyrrans. He had to contact them, befriend them. Find out how they had managed to live safely on this madhouse world.

      If there had been another way to lick the problem, he would have taken it; he didn’t relish the role of martyred hero. But Kerk and his deadline had forced his hand. The contact had to be made fast and this was the only

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