“What’s wrong, Krull? Don’t you trust me?”

  He took his time answering. “The First Folk are cunning, known for their trickery. It’s possible they sent you in order to learn my plans. But the more I think about it—they wouldn’t have allowed you to kill the Smilodons. The cats are expensive, especially once they receive... What did you call that again?” He indicated a thing projecting from his head.

  “Antenna,” I said.

  He nodded. “Mounting it is hard and costly. To have it installed, the Smilodon must go to the world of the First Folk.” He looked at me. “Did I say something wrong?”

  I must have stared at him with shock. “The First Folk can cross worlds; they can go back to their planet?”

  “Of course. That is what I help keep running, the transfer machine.” Krull scowled. “They’ve threatened lately to send me into the deep mines where the wild ones and those who are in disfavor go.”

  “Who are the wild ones?”

  Krull pointed in the direction of the ziggurat. “Those who live on the plains, who battle against the Corporation. Sometimes, the First Folk send out slaving parties to trap and kill wild ones. The trapped ones are sent into the deepest mines. There, they dig for alibite, what the First Folk need for their genetic experiments.”

  I studied Krull. Sure, he looked like a caveman. He was squat and strong. And this was a primitive world with saber-toothed tigers. But he was no caveman in estimation and knowledge. I considered his sloping forehead and face that looked dull or dim-witted. The eyes belied that. As I said, he was a smart boy.

  I learned that the Corporation was a mining expedition sent from the Institute. The First Folk mined alibite in particular. They also sent furs home, furs gained on the steppes.

  “Tell me more about the wild ones.”

  Krull nodded. “I spoke with a captured chieftain once. I wonder if the First Folk allowed our conversation so they could secretly gain knowledge by eavesdropping on us.” He shrugged. “On the howling steppes where mastodons and woolly mammoths live—”

  “Wait a second,” I said, interrupting, “there’re woolly mammoths here?’

  “I just said so.”

  “I don’t distrust you. It’s just, on my world, my planet—”

  “Yes,” Krull said, interrupting. “What is your planet called?”

  “Earth.”

  “You call it Dirt?”

  “No, Earth is the name for our planet.”

  I finally remembered where I’d heard the name Garm before. In Norse or Viking myth, it was the name of the hellhound that guarded the underworld.

  Hmm… Garm. Mu. The Chariots of the Gods by Erich von Däniken… Perhaps these were all memories of the old time before the Harmony had shattered.

  As I tramped through the snow with Krull, it struck me that I was a strange candidate for traveling. Who would think I had the genes for this, me, Jake Bayard.

  I’d always had trouble with my teachers in school. For one thing, they hadn’t liked my attitude. I’d always questioned authority, receiving detentions or having teachers lecture me on this, that, and the other thing. It was funny then that I’d join the Marines.

  Anyway, I was on a prehistoric type world.

  I listened to Krull as he told me about the Corporation and its practices. Just like my time on Saddoth, this place sounded like it was itching for a Spartacus moment.

  For those who don’t know, one of the cruelest eras in human history was during the later times of the Roman Republic, when it was on the march unifying the Mediterranean basin. They conquered Carthage, the Hellenistic empires Alexander the Great had started and the Gauls. Nothing back then could stop the Roman legions. That had meant captives and more captives, which meant slave labor. Italy changed from homeboys running their own farms, into debtor soldiers selling their farms because they were away conquering for years and the farms had gone to pot without them. They sold to the rich, who bought countless slaves to till the soil and watch the cattle and sheep. Soon, much of Italy was filled with slaves instead of citizen farmers so the richest, aristocratic Romans could make yet more money.

  Prosperity reigned, you could say. Wealth flowed…into the coffers of the rich.

  The amount of lead found in old ice cores from that era was more than any other time up until the Industrial Revolution. The point was that masses upon masses of slaves were mining, manufacturing and farming under miserable conditions.

  Then, a gladiator named Spartacus—a Thracian for those who are interested—led a revolt. There were a ton of slave revolts then, but this may have been the worst. He forged an army from his slaves that beat the Romans in Italy for several years.

  I watched that movie. It was one of my favorites with Kirk Douglas. They crucified Spartacus and his men in the end.

  You see, slave revolts seldom ended well for the slaves, but in bitter butchery.

  The only successful slave revolt I knew about was the one in the Bible. That was when God led Moses to Pharaoh and there were ten horrible plagues. The Egyptians had enslaved the Hebrew people but finally let them go. According to the Bible, God led them out into the desert. Pharaoh had second thoughts and raced with his chariot host to drive them back. Moses or God lured Pharaoh and his chariots into the Red Sea and drowned the lot of them. The Hebrew slaves thereby gained their freedom for good, proving to be the only revolting slaves with a happy conclusion.

  The point was the idea of the Neanderthal slaves gaining their freedom through their own hard fighting. Only the Hebrew slaves had really made it work. Could the Neanderthals do it here?

  In truth, I didn’t have much hope for that. Yet, perchance to dream, as they say, why not give it a go?

  Krull explained about the hard conditions in the mines, the cruelty of the First Folk. Then, he told me the worst.

  “Bayard, the First Folk keep our women locked up. They treat our women like whores; doled out to whomever the First Folk please, usually to workers they think deserves a woman. That’s about the only time we can get to see or speak to our women. Thus, our young are born under harsh and vile conditions, our women held even in worse bondage than the men.”

  “Doesn’t sound good,” I admitted.

  “It’s horrible. We hate the First Folk. But they’re more cunning than we are. They know how to wield power and trick us, using divide and conquer tactics.”

  I nodded. That sounded like Philip and his crew from last time in the Chaunt System.

  “This is my idea,” Krull said. “I wish to meet the wild tribes and forge an alliance with them in order to overthrow the First Folk. I want to regain control of our world.”

  “‘By world,” I said, “you mean the Corporation mine?”

  Krull nodded. “Our world has grown harsh. Each year the winters are worse than the ones before. It’s said the wild tribes struggle in order to maintain their population. Perhaps I can convince them to stake all on a single stroke of fate.”

  “You’d need a plan, something no one has tried before.”

  “I know. I have that. I know a secret—” Krull stopped and stared at me. We were almost to the ziggurat and statues.

  I could feel his apprehension. I could almost feel the mallet cracking against my head.

  “Krull, I’m no spy for the First Folk. I know who they are. I’ve dealt with them and I’ve given them a heavy blow. Believe me, the First Folk hate me.”

  “How can that be?”

  I told him what had happened last journey in the Chaunt System.

  He laughed, amazed. His mallet lowered. He was nodding and laughing by the time I was done.

  “If what you say is truth,” Krull said, “the First Folk can lose.”

  “They can lose all right.” I recalled the chamber full of dead First Folk, the ones I’d slain to make sure Earth stayed safe.

  Krull stared at me. “Bayard, will you help me free my people? Will you help me so we can thrive again?”

  I thought about it.

  “Will you help me drive the Philips from Garm?” Krull asked.

  “Did you say Philip?”

  Krull became wary. “You know Philip?”

  “I knew several Philips, all clones of the Original.”

  “Ah,” Krull said, “you truly do know the First Folk. That is a deep secret. Understand this then, many of my friends died that I might escape with my secret.”

  I wondered about that and our meeting at the ziggurat. Maybe it hadn’t been strict chance. Maybe the pyramidion in Antarctica had had a hand in that, metaphorically speaking.

  “Your coming was fortuitous,” Krull said. “That we defeated the Smilodons—I wish we’d killed the last one.”

  “Yup,” I said. “I agree with that.”

  Krull peered into the sky, looking left, right, back and ahead.”

  “What is it?”

  Krull shook his head. “It can’t be this easy. They’ll surely send a slave-raiding force to try to recapture us. I hope your weapon can take down their aerial craft.”

  I didn’t think the Colt could. I was glad I’d kept my phasor hidden. It was an ace in the hole.

  We reached the ziggurat and statues, plopping down, taking a break. Afterward, we’d start onto the howling steppes.

  I thought about what Krull had told me. Was it the truth? I had no reason to think him a liar. Still, I hoped this wasn’t a devious Philip plan.

  I’d have to wait and see.

  -11-

  Krull and I left the ziggurat and statues, heading into the sleet that howled against us. Would it be worse when we actually left the valley and were upon the steppe?

  I lowered my head and glanced at Krull. He’d put away his crowbar and threaded the heavy mallet in a loop on a belt. He cinched his coat and wrapped the woolens tighter around his face. Then, he handed me a woolen scarf, an extra one.

  “Thanks,” I said, wrapping the scarf around my face. It helped a ton.

  I was grateful I had my Antarctic parka, gloves and other equipment, glad I hadn’t ditched them in my race from those chasing us in the South Pole tunnels. I assumed they’d been Krekelens and helping psi-masters. That made the most sense.

  Livi was a sly Vegan agent. Had a psi-master changed her thoughts about me, or had our time together been a spring romance. Maybe it was like a person going on a trip to a foreign country, meeting someone there and then realizing when it was time to go home that the romance wouldn’t work anymore.

  It didn’t have to be psi-masters then that had caused Livi do what she had.

  I scowled. I didn’t know why Livi had done what she had. I could only surmise and live with the pang in my heart. I did know I had to trudge through the snow on Garm. The sleet and snow encapsulated me with my thoughts. I had no idea what would happen next, although we were attempting a Spartacus-like rebellion.

  I wasn’t Spartacus. Krull was with his so-called secret.

  I wasn’t going to ask him about the secret. He guarded it zealously, even if he’d let slip that he had a secret.

  The two of us trudged the rest of the day, leaving the final environs of the valley. The wind increased, fighting us every step of the way.

  An hour before sunset, the wind slackened. The sleet and snow settled and I saw the star of Garm, the sun of this world.

  The star was brilliantly white, although smaller than our sun. Its rays struck the snow and ice, producing intense glare. I had to squint and hold a gloved hand before my eyes.

  Krull put on his Eskimo sunglasses. He had a second pair, silently offering them to me.

  I took them gladly and put them on. What blessed relief they brought. It was like peeking through a crack in the door.

  Krull pointed out some boulders in the distance. We reached them just before dark. Moving among the boulders, Krull selected our spot. Then, like a magician in a stage show, he pulled a thermal blanket out of his sack. It looked like Earth moon tech, an advanced piece of survival equipment.

  We huddled together and he wrapped the blanket around us. It helped, as we stayed warm the entire night even though the wind howled, even though we heard strange sounds in the dark. No Smilodon pounced and devoured us. I suppose that was obvious, otherwise, you wouldn’t be hearing this tale.

  In the morning, we ate more of his rations. He said it would be good if we could hunt for food to stretch our supplies.

  “How would we cook anything we killed?” I asked. I hadn’t seen any trees or even bushes.

  Krull looked at me askance.

  “We’d have to eat it raw?” I asked.

  He nodded as if that was self-evident.

  If I must, I thought to myself. Yes, I'll eat raw meat to stay alive.

  We stowed our gear, wrapped the woolens around our faces and put up our hoods. Then we trudged into the stormy weather.

  “Krull,” I said after a bit. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Please do.”

  “Do you know how to find the wild ones?”

  We took a few more steps before he said, “Not exactly.”

  “So, what are we doing out here?”

  Krull nodded. “The chieftain I spoke to in the deep mine gave me an idea.”

  “Yeah? What is it?”

  Krull explained that the wild ones lived in clans of one hundred and fifty to two hundred people. There were a few outlaw tribes of maybe thirty or so souls, but primarily the wild ones lived in these larger groups. They didn’t have wagons or other kind of transport, although they apparently had great shaggy dogs, pack beasts. They loaded up the dogs the way Indians in North America used to, strapping them with burdens as they trudged from one place to the next.

  Krull spoke about signposts: boulders with chiseled or painted runes marking various nomadic territories. We were looking for the Yellow Knives in particular, as they were the greatest clan. That was based on what the chieftain had said. Krull told me the chief had been a Yellow Knife, which might have influenced his opinion.

  We spent the rest of the day trudging through snow and across ice. At times, either Krull or I scooped up mouthfuls of snow and melted it in our mouth, drinking afterward.

  It was a desolate and eerie landscape, reminding me too much of Antarctica. How could anyone survive out here in the long run?

  During the worst gusts, which kicked up swirling particles of ice and snow, Krull tied a rope between us. That way, we wouldn’t separate and become lost during the whiteout.

  It was while we were trudging through the blizzard that made me think of it. I should have thought of it sooner. I asked Krull, “How do you know which way to go?”

  Stepping up beside me, Krull dug in a pocket and produced a tiny compass.

  That made me realize once again that although Krull might appear slow, he was just as smart, or perhaps even smarter, than I was.

  We ate rations and melted snow, drinking plenty of water. Therefore, we were always stopping to take whizzes.

  I noticed that my whizz, my urine, if you want to be more exact, hit the snow as liquid.

  That was a good sign. In Antarctica, during the coldest times, that didn’t happen. As I’d said earlier, it hit the ground as icy particles, which meant it was damn cold.

  Thus, although we tramped through a bleak and frozen tundra, it wasn’t as bad as Antarctica.

  Had Earth been like this when it had been in the grip of an ice age? Had Neanderthals and Cro-Magnon men fought or worked together back then?

  I’d read before that some Earthlings had a small percentage of Neanderthal DNA. That implied our two species had engaged in unions. That would have resulted in hybrid children. Nevertheless, they were far more compatible than, for example, a donkey and a horse, which produce sterile mules.

  The point was that I started to feel kinship with Krull. That reminded me of my promise to my blood-brother Bok in an Ophidian gladiatorial camp—if Bok was still alive after all this time. I said I’d try to rescue him, and his people.

  If Krull and his people could gain freedom, maybe they’d help me free other Neanderthals on a different planet.

  Bok and his tribesmen had been larger, though. They’d also been hairy. Did that imply a different type of Neanderthal? Obviously, it did. The size difference wasn’t as huge as the hairiness. Despite the hairiness, the Original People, the free Neanderthals on Saddoth, had worn loincloths and other garments. Would the relatively hairless Neanderthals on Garm be willing to help larger, hairier ones?

  I shook my head. How could a few Garm Neanderthals free the fighting Neanderthals on Saddoth? There were surely millions and possibly billions of Ophidians on the planet. Freeing the meat cattle with a handful of Garm Neanderthals would be impossible. No matter what, though, I’d need a way to transport a battalion from one world to the next. I had no idea how to do that.

  I snorted to myself. Before I could do anything so grand, I’d have to survive Garm and the First Folk, to saying nothing of more Smilodons.

  Thinking about Bok and Krull caused me to wonder: what had been the most prevalent species among the former Harmony of Planets? Was it Homo sapiens or Neanderthals? And if it was Neanderthals, what kind: hairless or hairy? Surely, it couldn’t be the Homo habilises. They didn’t even procreate, but used cloning to keep their numbers high enough to run the Institute.

  Speaking of, where was the Institute? Did the Corporation really have a transfer mechanism directly to the Institute world as Krull said? And what did the mineral or substance or whatever it was they extracted in the deep mines, how did the alibite help the First Folk?

  These thoughts and others occupied my mind throughout the second day.

  Midway through the third day, I heard something that sounded like—

  Krull grabbed my shoulders and shouted in my face, “Do you hear that whine?”

  “Yes.”

  “They’ve found us.”

  “Who?” I shouted. ”The First Folk?”

  “Yes, yes,” Krull shouted. “You must beware. Smilodons are likely near. There is—” His eyes widened. He released me and pointed at the sky.

  My eyes widened, too, for that was when I saw it.