Grimes 049 The Way Back by A. Bertram Chandler

Author:A. Bertram Chandler [Chandler, A. Bertram]
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Sci-Fi Short
Published: 2010-03-07T20:35:03.281000+00:00

Chapter 16

"And what now?" Grimes asked Mayhew. He looked with pity towards the groaning Herak, still huddled on the grass, now in a foetal position. He said, "Perhaps I should send for the Doctor to do what he can for that poor bastard . . ."

"No, sir. I advise against it. I have an idea that the local wise woman or witch or whatever will be out soon from the village to take care of him . . ."

"And what's the king saying?"

"He's ordering his women to present the gifts to you."

"Oh. And what do I do?"

"Accept them graciously. Smile. Say something nice. You know."

"Mphm. I think that can be managed. And do I reciprocate?"

"Only to the king, sir. His name, I think, is Hektor . . ."

"And what would he like?"

"He's rather hoping, sir, that you'll present him with something fancy in the way of weapons . . ."

"Firearms are out of the question," snapped Grimes testily. He was feeling out of his depth. On a normal survey voyage there would have been a horde of specialists to advise him-experts in linguistics, sociology, zoology, botany, geology . . . The list was almost endless. Now he had not so much as a single ethologist. He was lucky to have two excellent telepaths; their talent helped him to surmount, after a fashion, the language barrier.

"Your dress sword . . ." suggested Sonya. "I never did like that anachronistic wedding-cake cutter."

"No."

"If I may make a suggestion, sir," said Dalzell, "my Artificer Sergeant has been amusing himself making some rather good arbalests-crossbows. He thought that such weapons could be useful if, at some time, we ran completely out of ammunition for our projectile rifles and pistols . . ."

"Thank you, Major. One of those should do very nicely . . ." Dalzell spoke into his wrist-transceiver, then said to Grimes, "The arbalest will be down in a couple of seconds, sir."

"Good."

The king was approaching slowly, his gleaming sword once again held proudly aloft. Behind him marched the women with the jars and the baskets, the slaughtered lamb, balanced on their heads. They moved gracefully, their naked bodies swaying seductively as they walked. Some of them were blondes and some brunettes, and the skins of all of them were a lustrous, golden brown. Grimes-and the other men-watched them with undisguised admiration.

Sonya said sharply, "Beware the Greeks when they come bearing gifts!"

"Ha!" snorted Grimes. "Ha! Very funny."

"But rather apt, my dear."

The king stood to stiff attention, a little to one side of the line of advance of the gift-bearers. Slowly the leading woman, a statuesque blonde, approached Grimes. With both hands she lifted the jar from her head and then, falling to her knees with a fluid motion, deposited it on the grass at the commodore's feet. She got up, bowed, then turned and walked away.

"You didn't thank her," said Sonya. "But no doubt your mind was on other things, although not higher things . . ."

"I think that's oil in the jar," said Mayhew.

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