Chapter III

Slowly his racing heartbeat returned to normal. Gradually he became aware of the stench of decaying plants and of musky taints he knew instinctively were the scents of underwater animals. Then with a shock the meaning became clear. He had become a water-breather, cut off from all other Earthmen, no longer entirely human. His fellows in the colony were separated from him now by a gulf more absolute than the airless void between Earth and Venus.

Something slippery and alive touched him near one armpit. He opened his eyes in the black water and his groping hand clutched something burrowing into his skin. With a shudder of revulsion he crushed a fat worm between his fingers.

Then dozens of them--hundreds--were upon him from all sides. He was wearing only a pair of khaki pants but the worms ignored his chest to congregate around his face, intent on attacking the tender skin of his eyelids.

For a minute his flailing hands fought them off, but they came in increasing numbers and clung like leeches. Pain spread as they bit and burrowed, and blindly he began to swim.

Faster and faster. He could sense the winding banks of the slough and kept to midchannel, swimming with his eyes tightly closed. One by one the worms dropped off.

He stopped, opened his eyes, not on complete darkness this time but on a faint blue-green luminescence from far below. The water was saltier here, and clearer.

He had swum down the slough and out into the ocean. He tried to turn back, obsessed by a desire to be near the colony even though he could not go ashore without strangling, but he had lost all sense of direction.

He was still weak and his lungs were not completely adjusted to underwater life. Again he grew dizzy and faint. The slow movements of hands and feet that held him just below the surface grew feeble and ceased. He sank.

Down into dimly luminous water he dropped, and with his respiratory system completely water-filled there was no sensation of pressure. At last he floated gently to the bottom and lay motionless.

Shouting voices awakened him, an exultant battle cry cutting through a gasping scream of anguish. Streaks of bright orange light were moving toward him in a twisting pattern. At the head of each trail was a figure. A human figure that weaved and swam in deadly moving combat. One figure drifted limply bottomward.

Hallucination, Barry told himself. Then one of the figures broke from the group. Almost overhead it turned sharply downward and the feet moved in a powerful flutter-kick. A slender spear aimed directly at the Earthman.

Barry threw himself aside. The spear point plunged deep into the sticky, yielding bottom and Barry grappled with its wielder.

Pointed fingernails raked his cheek. Barry's balled fist swung in a roundhouse blow but water resistance slowed the punch to ineffectiveness. The creature only shook its head and came in kicking and clawing.

Barry braced his feet against the bottom and leaped. His head butted the attacker's chest and at the same instant he lashed a short jab to the creature's belly. It slumped momentarily, its face working.

Human--or nearly so--the thing was, with a stocky, powerful body and webbed hands and feet. A few scraps of clothing, seemingly worn more for ornament than covering, clung to the fishbelly-white skin. The face was coarse and savage.

It shook off the effects of Barry's punch and one webbed hand snatched a short tube from its belt.

Barry remembered the spring-opening knife in his pocket, and even as he flicked the blade out the tube-weapon fired. Sound thrummed in the water and the water grew milky with a myriad of bubbles. Something zipped past his head, uncomfortably close.

Then Barry struck, felt his knife slice flesh and grate against bone. He struck again even as the undersea being screamed and went limp.

Barry stared through the reddening water.

Another figure plunged toward him. Barry jerked the dead Venusian's spear from the mud and raised it defensively.

But the figure paid no attention. This one was a female who fled desperately from two men closing in from opposite sides. One threw his spear, using an odd pushing motion, and as she checked and dodged, the other was upon her from behind.

One arm went around her neck in a strangler's hold, bending her slender body backward. Together captor and struggling captive sank toward the bottom. The other recovered his thrown spear and moved in to help secure her arms and legs with lengths of cord.

One scooped up the crossbow the girl had dropped. The other ripped at her brief skirt and from her belt took a pair of tubes like the one the dead Venusian had fired at Barry, handling them as though they were loot of the greatest value. He jerked cruelly at the slender metallic necklace the girl wore but it did not break.

He punched the helpless girl in the abdomen with the butt of his spear. The girl writhed but she did not attempt to cry out.

Barry bounded toward them in a series of soaring leaps, knife and spear ready. One Venusian turned to meet him, grinning maliciously.

Barry dug one foot into the bottom and sidestepped a spear thrust. His own lunge missed completely. Then he and the Venusian were inside each other's spear points, chest to chest. A pointed hook strapped to the inside of the creature's wrist just missed Barry's throat. The Earthman arched his body backward and his knife flashed upward. The creature gasped and pulled away, clutching with both hands at a gaping wound in its belly.

The other one turned too late as Barry leaped.

Barry's hilt cracked against its jawbone.

* * * * *

Barry bent over the girl and realized with a start that she was different.

Her skin was a strange blue-brown. Her features were delicate, intelligent, very different from the savage faces of the males he had battled. Her dark hair grew further down the back of her neck than was customary on Earth, forming a short, silky mane between her shoulder blades.

She was slender of body, except that the muscles running down her sides from armpit to waist were amazingly well developed. Her high-set, compactly pointed breasts were uncovered, and he could see that any sort of upper clothing would interfere with full use of those unusual swimming muscles. Her skirt was short and close-fitting.

Her eyes, though, were filled with hatred, defiance, terror.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, hoping his tone would convey the meaning.

She seemed more puzzled than grateful as he slid the knife gently between her ankles to sever the binding cords, and she shrank under his touch as he rolled her over to reach her wrists.

"There you are," he said, and started to straighten up.

Something struck him from above and many hands clutched at him. Within seconds he was flat in the mud. Two Venusians held each arm and leg.

Another stood over him with spear poised.

But the girl shouted and grasped the spearman's arm.

The girl spoke with rapid urgency, pointing from Barry to her erstwhile captors.

Barry could not believe his ears. The sounds were familiar. He could even understand a word here and there, and in these entirely alien surroundings the effect was eerie.

A Venusian looked at the pink clouds of diluted blood rising from the bodies, then gazed apprehensively up into the dimness overhead.

"Kill him quickly and let us go," he suggested. "The torvaks will soon come."

The girl turned upon him. "He lives!" she snapped. "From what yort he comes I know not, but assuredly he is no noru!"

Although his right arm was pinioned Barry still clutched his knife. Now the girl stooped and touched his fist without attempting to pry it open. Barry surrendered the weapon.

The men allowed him to sit up, but they remained wary. Meanwhile the girl was examining the knife with intense interest.

Barry smiled at her, and being careful to make no sudden motions that might be misinterpreted he held out his hand. Hesitantly she laid the knife on his palm while around him his guards raised their spears and crossbows.

He closed the blade. Then, showing her exactly how it was done, he pressed the button that let the five-inch blade snick out. Repeating the demonstration, he handed it back with a gesture indicating it was a gift.

The girl smiled and spoke to him, and although most of her words were unintelligible he gathered she was asking if he wanted to accompany them. Emphatically he nodded, overcome with a sudden dread of being left alone on the sea bottom.

Her suggestion created consternation among the others.

"We must consult Komso," one suggested uneasily.

The girl frowned. "We do not consult Komso," she contradicted. "I take full responsibility."

The man shrugged. "Let us go before the torvaks come," he evaded.

Weapons were slung for carrying and the band leaped from the bottom and began swimming. Barry followed, keeping close beside the girl.

Although he relied more on power than skill he found himself able to maintain their fast pace. He soon caught the knack of using the webs between his fingers and toes.

And muscles trained under Earth gravity and without water support seemed superior to those of the Venusians.

The men talked as they swam, and Barry remembered where he had heard those particular combinations of sounds before.

A construction job had once taken him to an almost inaccessible mountain section of Mexico and there he had picked up a few words of the dialect used by the native Indian laborers. Aztec? Incan? Mayan? Something predating all three? He had no idea of its origin, but the similarity opened astounding trails of speculation.

The girl, he learned from hearing the others address her, was named Xintel.

* * * * *

An undersea cliff loomed craggy and irregular ahead. As the group slanted up toward a black hole in its face the voices of the men took on tones of happy relief.

But the girl was frowning.

The group which had held together compactly during the long swim broke up, each man heading for the cave mouth at top speed. Barry saw that huge boulders had been piled one upon another to narrow the entrance until not more than three abreast could pass.

Xintel motioned to Barry to stay close behind her. She seemed to be anticipating trouble.

It came as they started to enter. A huge, bull-necked man with a well fed appearance in marked contrast to the lean muscularity of the other Venusians, stepped out and barred their passage, arms outflung. Heavy glittering bracelets jangled on his wrists. Something in the contrived melodrama of his gestures told Barry that unseen eyes were watching from the darkness.

"Xintel! What is this thing you bring to the portal of Tana?" the man asked harshly.

The girl stood her ground. "He comes with me!"

"He's an alien. He must die!" The man's tone was arrogant.

Xintel stiffened angrily. "He will not be killed, Komso. He is not a noru."

Komso's face reddened angrily. "But he is--" he began, and then stopped abruptly.

"You would take this one, then, into Tana itself?" His voice conveyed the impression that such a course was unheard of.

The girl nodded, motioning Barry to follow.

"Sacrilege! Offspring of a blasphemer!" Komso shouted.

Xintel did not pause.

Komso motioned and someone in the dark tunnel behind him placed a loaded crossbow in his hands. He swung the weapon to cover the Earthman.

"Over my dead body shall this alien thing enter Tana," he snarled.

Barry stood motionless and helpless, trying to conceal his fear.

Xintel's voice was coldly defiant. "So be it, then. Over your dead body, if you insist."

With a movement of feline grace and speed she snatched a tube-weapon from her belt. She was bluffing. Barry had seen the savages who had captured her test the weapons and find them unloaded. But Komso had not.

His face grew pale but his slitted eyes glared murder. "You bring your own death. I tried only to save you from the consequences of your folly."

He turned and swam into the opening.

Xintel did not allow herself the vestige of a smile. Instead she grabbed Barry's wrist and pulled him after her into the black hole. In the darkness she passed him his knife.

The passage was several hundred yards long but the girl guided him unerringly around its turns. The Earthman's nerves were jangling.