Chapter 11: Flight

Pete came slowly awake to the familiar sound of rain drumming on tightly stretched canvas. For a moment, he thought that he was back in the Oregon woods, camped beside a stream not yet polluted by encroaching civilization. Then the shifting breeze brought alien scents, and he remembered where he was. EssChad. With the help of Steve and Lyssa, he had rescued Dron from almost certain execution. They had sneaked away from DronntaCity well ahead of the alarm.

Martial law had quickly closed the roads ahead of them. Then their steam car had run out of fuel and they had to abandon it. There had seemed no way to turn. Late one evening, trudging wearily along a winding back road, they had heard the sound of strident voices from out of the rain ahead of them.

"By Grommach! I say, you'll stay and work to earn your keep. Else, I'll turn you over to the peace keepers!"

"You can take your job and feed it to your animals, along with the slop you expect me to eat!" The second voice was higher pitched than the first, younger sounding.

They had crept forward to where a couple of highwheeled wagons and a gaudily painted tent could be seen through the evening mists. In front of the tent, a grossly fat Thantan loomed over a smaller, slimmer figure whose head was cocked defiantly to one side, glaring back at him. The larger one started forward, then fell as the smaller one bounced a billet of wood off its head.

The smaller Thantan disappeared into the mists. Dron motioned the others to stay out of sight, going forward alone to help the fallen man to his feet.

"Easy there," he bellowed. "I got here just in time to see the miscreant run off. Are you all right?"

"I guess so, damn him! If I ever get my hands on him, I'll tear him limb from tail. Who's going to feed my animals? Who's going to drive my other wagon? Ooh, my poor head!"

"Well, now. Maybe I can do something about that," Dron rumbled amiably. "My name's Drogga, and I've got some trained animals of my own to show off, but I don't have any wagons or tent. Maybe we can get together on a deal."

"My name's Gronch," the fat one had volunteered, reluctantly. "What kind of animals?"

"They come out of the GreatSwamp, and they look like nothing you ever saw before. Ardle! Come out, and bring our friends with you."

Gronch's jaw dropped at the sight of the three humans. He had been even more astonished when they had obeyed a series of simple commands for 'Drogga'. With the coming of daylight they had continued on down the road, luckily in the direction they had wanted to go. Except for an occasional stop at a rural village to put on a show, they had been on the move ever since. Dron had commandeered a trio of empty cages from Gronch, fixing them up for the humans to sleep in. It also gave them a place to keep their food and belongings safe from prying eyes.

"The longer we can pass you off as strange animals, the better," Dron had insisted.

Pete had agreed with enthusiasm. Now, after their fourth night of sleeping in dry beds, they were all getting restless. Steve in particular had protested at performing 'like trained seals'. Pete had overruled him, saying that Dron had been willing to do a strongman act, and that their roles had been far easier.

Pete reached out through the bars of his cage, deftly lifting the latch.

"How much longer until we get to the hills?" He asked Dron, who was guiding the team of stubbies along the rutted road.

"We had better break away tonight. Another day would take us back to the village where we caught the train. If Jakkarth is the one who turned us in, we certainly don't want him to hear of us. I'm too well known around here, anyway."

Pete climbed back through the wagon to where Steve and Lyssa were still asleep.

"Wake up, you two."

"Whassamatter?" Steve opened one eye.

"Dron says, we take off for the hills tonight. Better make sure you've got all of your things together. No more nice, soft beds, and riding instead of walking," Pete told him, cheerfully.

"No more circus acts for us, either. I've had about all I can take of pretending to be a trained animal," Steve grumbled.

"At least, you don't have to eat the food they throw to you," Lyssa reminded him, sitting crosslegged in her cage and combing out her long red hair. "Anyway, look at all the opportunity you have to meet these people. Right at the grassroots, so to speak. Maybe when we get back, you'll be appointed to head the local embassy staff, since you know the local language and everything."

"My dear girl, that is not the way that the government works. The diplomatic corps is a completely different branch of our governmental structure," he continued pontifically. "Knowledge of the local language and customs is not a prerequisite for holding such an office."

"No, I didn't think that it would be," Lyssa answered demurely, but with a hint of a grin.

Steve growled something under his breath, turning away to fit essential items into his pack. Pete climbed forward beside Dron, watching the scenery until Lyssa moved back up beside him.

"Weren't you just a bit hard on Steve, back there?"

Lyssa tried to look contrite, but spoiled it by giggling.

"I'm sorry, Pete. But he did ask for it. 'My dear girl', indeed! He's so sure that he's right, that I just can't help taking a poke at his dignity once in a while. What really makes him boil, is that none of us women have given him a tumble. He could accept the fact that I don't fall for his line, since I haven't been married very long. It gripes him no end that Amy won't look at him, since he thinks of her as just one of Mr. Marten's mistresses. And, he gets absolutely furious when Nancy prefers a mere helicopter pilot like you to a high government official. He still thinks that he is the one who should be in charge of rescuing us, too."

"I knew that something was biting him," Pete replied, softly. "I just didn't know that it was that bad. I'll be glad when we get back to the others."

"Particularly, Nancy?" Lyssa teased.

"That's right. Say, isn't that a village up ahead?"

"Gronch said something about putting on a show today," Dron reminded them. "I only hope that this will be the last one."

"You mean, you don't like being 'Drogga the Strong Man'?" Pete joked.

"After tonight, Gronch can take that strong man outfit and sink it in the nearest lake! And he can jump in after it, for all I care."

Gronch pulled the lead wagon to a halt by a straggle of dilapidated huts. Dron swung the other wagon in beside it, and Ardle leaped down from the rear of their wagon. The three Thantans had the tent set up, and the animal cages inside, before the villagers awoke to their presence. By the time eight or ten scruffy Thantans gathered around, there was nothing to see but two empty wagons, anchored by pairs of grazing stubbies. Gronch, in a flamboyant robe, stood guard at the entrance to the garishly painted tent.

"Step right up, folks. See the strongest man in the world. See strange creatures from the depths of the Great Swamp, dangerous monsters alive and waiting to thrill you with their fantastic tricks. Only a few coins to see the greatest wonders of the age."

Gronch kept on with his chant until the entire population of the village, some forty or fifty assorted Thantans, clustered in front of the tent. Peering over each others' shoulders, jostling each other to get a better view, they crowded ever closer.

"That's right, folks." Gronch was almost hidden from sight among them, but his voice was easily heard above their clamor. "Just threeeighths of a coin, to see these fabulous monsters. Who's first? That's right, just three bits."

He deftly maneuvered them into the tent, relieving them of their coins as fast as they pressed forward. The first thing they saw, as they filed inside, was Dron in his costume of 'Drogga the Strong Man'. He was lifting huge weights, really almost as heavy as they looked, and bending metal bars into odd shapes.

"Anyone here got any muscles?"

"Yeah. Me." A burly farmer stepped out of the crowd. "I can do anything what you can."

Without a word, Dron picked up a crazily twisted bar from the floor and handed it to the farmer. The mark grasped it with both hands, trying to straighten it out.

"Oof! It's a fake! You already had that one bent."

"Then try this one."

With a flourish, 'Drogga' picked up a heavy copper bar from the rack behind him, twisting it in one easy motion so that it resembled a bow knot. The farmer grabbed it from him, and nearly ruptured himself trying to straighten it. All he could do was to change its shape slightly. Abashed, he faded back into the crowd as 'Drogga' swept away a curtain in front of a barred enclosure.