In the Green Star's Glow

“Together, we stand twice as good a chance of surviving in the wilderness, as either of us would enjoy were we alone.”

Xikchaka pondered this; then he twitched his antennae in the kraan equivalent of a shrug.

“Perhaps. But it is not logical that we should assist each other, no matter what Zorak says,” was the only comment the great insect had to make. After a time, he added; “However, if Zorak wishes to persist in his illogical behavior, Xikchaka desires to quench his thirst again.”

Zorak grinned, chuckled, shook his head, and gave it up as hopeless. Then he went back to get more water for his weird companion in peril.

The unspoken truce between them lasted into the next day. When dawn lit up the world of the giant trees, Zorak arose and discovered that the kraan had recovered the better part of his strength. They journeyed down the branch together, going single file. There was little conversation between the two.

Zorak had torn off some of the fleshy meat from the tree-snail on which they had dined, and bore it with him, wrapped in a segment of leaf. Until they encountered more edible prey, this small store must suffice to assuage their hunger.

He dearly regretted the loss of his how and arrows, for without them he was unarmed and virtually helpless, at the mercy of whatever predatory beast or reptile might come upon them. Nature had armed Xikchaka with a tough body-armor and with dagger-sharp mandibles, but the divinity had not been so thoughtful in the case of the Tharkoonian. As they progressed down the branch toward the mountainous trunk of the arboreal colossus, the bowman kept his eyes peeled for something which could be employed as a weapon. He had in mind the stinger of a dead wasp, or a javelin-long thorn perhaps, but found neither.

In case they were attacked, his only hope was that Xikchaka would fight on his behalf. Alone, friendless, and unarmed, the human inhabitants of the giant forest were the most helpless of creatures. Somehow, he felt an inner certainty that the insect-creature would fight for him in event of battle. But he could not be sure of this.

With a shrug, Zorak resigned himself philosophically to the whims of fate. The stalwart Tharkoonian saw no profit in worrying over possible events whose occurrence he could foresee but neither avoid nor influence. He resolved to take things as they came. In simple fact, he had no other choice.

By midday they reached the fork of the branch. Here it joined itself to the bole of the enormous tree. They could go no farther.

The kraan, with his multiple limbs, could easily descend the trunk to a lower branch, or ascend to a higher. Zorak, however, would find the going a bit more difficult. Luckily, the bark of the treetrunk was rough and scaly, affording the Tharkoonian a variety of hand-and footholds. Beneath them, about a quarter of a mile below their present height, a truly gigantic branch grew from the trunk and extended for some two miles across the gap between this tree and the next. The world-forest was so thickly grown in this coastal region, that they could actually travel afoot between the trees for very considerable distances.

Zorak’s inclination was, however, to ascend to the branch above and attempt to discover the fate of Niamh the Fair. He trusted to find the sky craft of Ralidux moored to the branch above. He attempted to convey this to Xikchaka, but the ant did not understand why the human should care in the least as to the fate of the female, and had utterly no comprehension of a machine that could fly. Xikchaka wanted to descend, and Zorak to travel in the opposite direction.

Here, then, their paths must part.

However, this was not fated to occur.

Zorak bade farewell to his traveling companion, who made no reply. Then the Tharkoonian began to climb the treetrunk. It was slow going, and would probably have been impossible to such as you or me, to climb a vertical surface some two miles above the world’s bottom, clinging to minute interstices with toes and fingers alone. Luckily, the human inhabitants of the World of the Green Star are immune to vertigo. Even so, Zorak’s climb was made at a slow rate, for the ascent was more difficult than it looked.

He did not get far.

Suddenly, a great red ant was above him, and two others clung to the trunk on either side. Looking down at the branch he had left, he saw and recognized Xikchaka amid a number of his fellow kraan.

The other insect-creatures had apparently just ascended to the branch on which he and Xikchaka had spent the hours of darkness. It was equally obvious to Zorak that the other creatures were warrior-ants from the same horde as Xikchaka, for Xikchaka was not engaged in fighting them but seemed to be communicating with his fellows in some telepathic manner. The kraan he had assisted in escaping from the clutches of the cannibal flower did not seem in the slightest to be concerned that Zorak was about to be captured.

Clinging spread-eagled against the bark, Zorak was helpless to fight off his attackers. They plucked him from his place and bore him down the trunk to the fork of the branch.

Then, after the rapid exchange of more silent signals or some manner of communication between themselves, the kraan war-party, bearing their helpless human captive, began descending the trunk to the lower bough.