Warrior Race, Page 2

  "If they'd just fight _us_!"

  "Yeah, if they only--" He stopped. "We'll fight each other!" he said."These people look at suicide as war. Wouldn't they look upon war--realfighting--as suicide?"

  "What good would that do us?" Donnaught asked.

  They were coming into the city now and the streets were lined with armednatives. Around the city there were thousands more. Natives were fillingthe plain, as far as the eye could see. Evidently they had responded tothe drums and were here to do battle with the aliens.

  Which meant, of course, a wholesale suicide.

  "Look at it this way," Fannia said. "If a guy plans on suiciding onEarth, what do we do?"

  "Arrest him?" Donnaught asked.

  "Not at first. We offer him anything he wants, if he just won't do it.People offer the guy money, a job, their daughters, anything, just so hewon't do it. It's taboo on Earth."

  "So?"

  "So," Fannia went on, "maybe fighting is just as taboo here. Maybethey'll offer us fuel, if we'll just stop."

  Donnaught looked dubious, but Fannia felt it was worth a try.

  * * * * *

  They pushed their way through the crowded city, to the entrance of thecache. The chief was waiting for them, beaming on his people like ajovial war god.

  "Are you ready to do battle?" he asked. "Or to surrender?"

  "Sure," Fannia said. "Now, Donnaught!"

  He swung, and his mailed fist caught Donnaught in the ribs. Donnaughtblinked.

  "Come on, you idiot, hit me back."

  Donnaught swung, and Fannia staggered from the force of the blow. In asecond they were at it like a pair of blacksmiths, mailed blows ringingfrom their armored hides.

  "A little lighter," Fannia gasped, picking himself up from the ground."You're denting my ribs." He belted Donnaught viciously on the helmet.

  "Stop it!" the chief cried. "This is disgusting!"

  "It's working," Fannia panted. "Now let me strangle you. I think thatmight do it."

  Donnaught obliged by falling to the ground. Fannia clamped both handsaround Donnaught's armored neck, and squeezed.

  "Make believe you're in agony, idiot," he said.

  Donnaught groaned and moaned as convincingly as he could.

  "You must stop!" the chief screamed. "It is terrible to kill another!"

  "Then let me get some fuel," Fannia said, tightening his grip onDonnaught's throat.

  The chief thought it over for a little while. Then he shook his head.

  "No."

  "What?"

  "You are aliens. If you want to do this disgraceful thing, do it. Butyou shall not profane our religious relics."

  * * * * *

  Donnaught and Fannia staggered to their feet. Fannia was exhausted fromfighting in the heavy space armor; he barely made it up.

  "Now," the chief said, "surrender at once. Take off your armor or dobattle with us."

  The thousands of warriors--possibly millions, because more were arrivingevery second--shouted their blood-wrath. The cry was taken up on theoutskirts and echoed to the hills, where more fighting men were pouringdown into the crowded plain.

  Fannia's face contorted. He couldn't give himself and Donnaught up tothe Cascellans. They might be cooked at the next church supper. For amoment he considered going after the fuel and letting the damned foolssuicide all they pleased.

  His mind an angry blank, Fannia staggered forward and hit the chief inthe face with a mailed glove.

  The chief went down, and the natives backed away in horror. Quickly, thechief snapped out a knife and brought it up to his throat. Fannia'shands closed on the chief's wrists.

  "Listen to me," Fannia croaked. "We're going to take that fuel. If anyman makes a move--if anyone kills himself--I'll kill your chief."

  The natives milled around uncertainly. The chief was struggling wildlyin Fannia's hands, trying to get a knife to his throat, so he could diehonorably.

  "Get it," Fannia told Donnaught, "and hurry it up."

  The natives were uncertain just what to do. They had their knives poisedat their throats, ready to plunge if battle was joined.

  "Don't do it," Fannia warned. "I'll kill the chief and then he'll neverdie a warrior's death."

  The chief was still trying to kill himself. Desperately, Fannia held on,knowing he had to keep him from suicide in order to hold the threat ofdeath over him.

  "Listen, Chief," Fannia said, eying the uncertain crowd. "I must haveyour promise there'll be no more war between us. Either I get it or Ikill you."

  "Warriors!" the chief roared. "Choose a new ruler. Forget me and dobattle!"

  The Cascellans were still uncertain, but knives started to lift.

  "If you do it," Fannia shouted in despair, "I'll kill your chief. _I'llkill all of you!_"

  That stopped them.

  "I have powerful magic in my ship. I can kill every last man, and thenyou won't be able to die a warrior's death. _Or_ get to heaven!"

  The chief tried to free himself with a mighty surge that almost tore oneof his arms free, but Fannia held on, pinning both arms behind his back.

  "Very well," the chief said, tears springing into his eyes. "A warriormust die by his own hand. You have won, alien."

  The crowd shouted curses as the Earthmen carried the chief and the cansof fuel back to the ship. They waved their knives and danced up and downin a frenzy of hate.

  "Let's make it fast," Fannia said, after Donnaught had fueled the ship.

  He gave the chief a push and leaped in. In a second they were in theair, heading for Thetis and the nearest bar at top speed.

  The natives were hot for blood--their own. Every man of them pledged hislife to wiping out the insult to their leader and god, and to theirshrine.

  But the aliens were gone. There was nobody to fight.

  --ROBERT SHECKLEY

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ November 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.