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The Space Barbarians
by Mack Reynolds
PART ONE COUP!
Chapter One
JOHN OF THE HAWKS brought his steed to a sudden halt just short of
the top of the hill they had been ascending. Some instinctive alarm had
sounded. Something there is in the warrior born that warns of danger,
and if the warrior would live, he heeds it ever. Were this not so there
would be scarce a clannsman from Dumbarton to Stonehaven, for the
ambush is a way of life on the planet Caledonia.
He slid from his animal and snaked his carbine from its scabbard. He
tethered the animal lightly, so that no time would be wasted were it
necessary to beat quick retreat, and made his way quietly to the hill's
crest. The last few yards he went on hands and knees; the last few inches
he squirmed on his belly.
There were several bushes on the crest. He wiggled up behind one and
peered through its branches and leaves. John of the Hawks sucked in air.
Below was a stream, flanked by trees and other vegetation. By the
stream were standing four saddled horses and three draft animals. The
latter were burdened down with what were obviously butchered cattle
and, since this was Hawk preserve, obviously raided beef cattle.
Now he could make the men out. Three of them, and from their kilts,
they were of the Claim Thompson. The kilts they were in the process of
removing. The situation was obvious. They had butchered the animals and
were now about to take a swim to clean up. Being deep in Aberdeen
 
territory, they had not wanted to be slowed down by herding the beef back
to their town but had butchered them on the spot and packed the choice
portions of the carcasses on their extra animals.
Moving slowly, quietly, John flicked three cartridges from his
bandolier. He threw the breech of his carbine and inserted one of the
shells. The other two he stuck, point first, into the ground near his right
hand, instantly available for a quick reloading.
The others had left their saddle guns in their scabbards, but John had
no illusions about the fighting qualities of the Clann Thompson. Thieves
they might notoriously be, but also competent fighters. Once he opened
fire, the bets would all be down. There were three adult clannsmen down
there, and he was but a lad, not yet raised up to full phyletic level.
Three of them?
He hesitated at squeezing the trigger, though he already had the sights
trained on one who was just about to enter the water. There were four
saddle horses.
He let his eyes go over the scene again and immediately received his
answer. Slightly upstream, in a thicker clump of trees, was the other
member of the party. She had drawn away from the men for privacy. John
of the Hawks made a wry mouth. He had heard that the women of the
Thompsons were shameless, but it was unseemly and not meet that one
should accompany a raiding party.
He watched for a long moment. All were in the water now. The girl's
body gleamed white in the clearness of the stream. She was young,
probably having no more years than John's own seventeen.
He grunted his irritation. One does not fire upon men in the presence
of their feminine kyn, although in this particular case there was little, if
any, danger of his bullets going so far off aim that she would be
endangered. There was no stronger bann than that against injuring a
woman, even though vendetta was involved. The male of a species does not
destroy the female, not even man. At least, not on the planet Caledonia.
He thought about it. It was too far back to Aberdeen to expect to be
able to ride for assistance, enough assistance that the raiders, girl and all,
might be captured without bloodshed.
 
But even as he thought about it, he knew the answer. It was foolhardy,
without doubt, but it was the only thing lie could do, given the situation.
He took up the two extra cartridges, and returned them to his
bandolier and began squirming backward. Once off the rise, he came to
his feet and hurried to his animal. He put the carbine back into its
scabbard and then unbuckled his belt with its claidheammor and skean
and attached them to the saddle. He took his coup stick from its sheath
and tucked it temporarily in his belt and then ascended the hill again.
They were all swimming, and even at this distance he could hear their
shouts and jests as they made at their horseplay. He grinned wryly as he
began squirming his way down the hill toward them. They would sing a
different song, if John of the Hawks was successful in his scheme.
He took what advantage he could of trees, shrubs and bushes and
finally achieved his immediate goal, a place in the shrubbery along the
river, between the girl and the men. Now he had a slight advantage. If the
clannsmen heard him stirring in the brush, they would think it the girl; if
she heard a stirring, she would think it part of the noise the men were
making as they splashed, dived and swam.
On hands and knees he crawled toward the animals. This, now, was the
crucial point. It was all a matter of how soon they spotted him.
And there was a matter of sheer luck, too. There were four saddle
horses. If he made the mistake of attempting one that was so trained that
it would seat only its master, he was destroyed.
The answer to that, or so he hoped, came to him as he crept nearer.
One of the beasts had no carbine scabbard. The girl's, of course. And a
girl's horse- was less apt to be clannsman trained to accept no stranger on
its back. At least, so was his prayer to the Holy.
There was a shout from the riverbank.
He was on his feet and dashing.
The shouts tripled.
He flung himself on the back of the animal he had chosen, and even as
he mounted, he was tearing free the tether that had tied the horse to a
 
small bush. He sunk heels into the beast's side, screaming the battle halloo
of the Clann Hawk. He pulled the coup stick from his belt and slashed at
the other three mounts. He gripped their tethers one by one and pulled
them free. He slashed their haunches, driving them before him. From the
river's edge, the Thompson clannsmen were coming at the run, shouting
their anger in d threats.
He pulled hard on the reins of his mount, turning it, and headed back
for the raiders. Only now did they see what he held in his hand, and they
tried to take last-minute measures to avoid him.
The coup stick came up and down so fast as to be a blur.
He slashed them, one two three, calling in repetition so quickly that the
words came out all a jumble, " I-count-coup-I-count-coup-I-count-coup !"
Then he was around again and away, dashing after the horses he had
just stampeded. He looked over his shoulder in triumph and just in time,
even as he was shouting his halloo.
Two of the three were seated on the ground, heads in hands, wailing
their disgrace and frustration. But the other had turned and sped back to
the river's edge. And only now did John see the carbine leaning there
against a tree trunk.
He cut short his battle cry, in midsyllable, and flung down on the far
side of the horse, clinging to the saddle by but one heel, his left hand
grasping a handful of mane.
And just in time. The carbine barked its command. One of the horses
screamed. John came back full into the saddle now. The wounded horse
ran another twenty yards then stumbled and pitched suddenly and fell.
John considered, only momentarily, halting long enough to strip it of
its trappings but gave up the possibility. For all he knew, the rifleman had
additional rounds of ammunition, and John was still within range. He
scrambled up the hill, kicking his heels ever into the frightened animal In?
rode, herding the remaining two beasts before him.
There was another element. Undoubtedly, behind him the Thompsons
were already stripping the beef carcasses from the remaining animals and
would soon be in pursuit John doubted that the draft animals were as fast
 
as those lie now possessed, but one never knew. They had the carbine, and
give the Clann Thompson its due, they were as good marksmen as ever
participated at the annual shoots at the assembly of the Dail of the Loch
Confederation.
Up the hill, shouting again the halloo of the Clann Hawk, up and over
the crest. He galloped to his own steed and Hung himself from the saddle
of the girl's horse, into the one to which he was more accustomed, without
descending to the ground.
He took up the reins of the three remaining captured beasts and
started off, making a beeline for Aberdeen and the security of the town of
his birth. He was chuckling happily now. He had taken his risk, and all
had come off as though rehearsed.
He had counted coup on three of the redoubtable Clann Thompson
raiders and had stolen their horses and most of their weapons. How the
town would respond! How the criers would shout his name. Though he
was but of seventeen years, none would dare speak .against his being
raised up to full participation in the phylum. The sachem himself would
acclaim him, the caciques and sagamores. He would be a man among men
and free to participate in the muster.
He pushed hard, not sparing the horse.
When he had ridden out of Aberdeen, a single lad on a horse, though
warned by his uncles to take care, if he went beyond the lands of the clann
there were none to say him nay. A clann does not remain strong by
preventing its young men from learning to scout, to raid, to defend
themselves from the foe. But he had been in comparatively little danger
then. Had he run into a raiding party of Bruces, Davidsons or Thompsons,
for that matter, he could honorably have run for it, being one against
many. And it would have been unlikely the others would have taken after
him, there being small profit in chasing lads still not of full phyletic age.
But he was now in possession of worthy booty and fair game for any
clannsman, save the Hawks and the sister clanns, of course, did any spot
him returning to Aberdeen.
He rode through the night, the pace being awkward since he continued
to hold on to the reins of the captured beasts, rather than try to herd
them. They were unused to him and nervous, after all the excitement, and
 

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