"I do not believe she would have exposed me, even had she not lost her memory through metamorphosis. I am in fact sure she did not, for when they quested for the truth of this matter, they located her, and she did not remember."
'But there was no other person!'
"There was one."
She was amazed. 'You don't mean—?'
"Slitherfear."
'The Squam! But—'
"When I became known for my success against a Squam, Slitherfear became aware of my identity. He knew the geography of that region; after all, he had surveyed it. The name Highfalls sufficed. He thought he had killed me in the valley, when I dropped off the machine-floater. Now he knew I had survived. He suffered internal illness because of the needling I had done to his stomach; though his kind used their other machines to restore him somewhat, he suffered both physical pain and the humiliation of being driven from his post by a HydrO. He was as angry with me as I was with him. He communicated with my people, betraying me. They had to verify or refute the charge—and it was true."
'So Slitherfear is twice your nemesis! He slew your love, then turned you from hero to criminal. You really have a score to settle with him!'
"And he with me. I understand he still manifests the faint odor of punctured membrane, which causes him to be held in ill repute among his kind and prevents him from mating."
'Good for you!' she exclaimed, clapping mental hands. Heem realized that her digits were not really Squamlike; they were soft-shelled rather than hard, and possessed five extremities rather than three.
"Slitherfear has motive to thrust for fame," Heem continued. "His work was undone by my victory in the arena, so he too is a failure. I believe he has entered this competition. He is an adventurer, with a liking for infiltrating distant regions and a dissatisfaction for remaining with his own kind. This accounted for his original mission to Morningmist."
'Where he blithely ate the young HydrOs!'
"It is the Squam nature. So I suspect he will be among the hosts on Eccentric, vindicating himself and preying on the helpless. I hope he is; in this fashion we may meet again."
'But if you were afraid to battle a Squam—'
"I am afraid. But it is necessary to make the attempt, to finish the business I started in Morningmist. Slitherfear must be killed, and I wish to be the one to kill him. Somehow."
'And you call yourself a coward!' she breathed in wonder.
Her attitude was rolling better with him. Heem realized that it was merely the result of her alien culture, but still it had its merits. Perhaps he should have been conceived an alien.
Heem decelerated jerkily, managing to lose another place in the column. There were Squam ships near him; he was sure they had satisfaction in perceiving his difficult descent. When he oriented for the planetary set-down, he fouled it up some more. When the ship finally settled to the landing site, it was twenty-third.
'That's playing it comfortably close,' Jessica said. 'Let's go get our tractor, and hope we don't lose the race by two places.'
He was about to oblige, as the acceleration bath drained—for, of course, he had had to use it for the final push—when one more communication came from the space net. "Do not hurry, Heem of Highfalls," the cynical taste translation sprayed. "I thought you might enter this competition, but doubted you would make it this far. I think you will not get far beyond this point, weak as you are. Do not die yet; allow me the opportunity to complete unfinished business."
'Slitherfear!' Jessica exclaimed. 'You were right!'
Heem, abruptly faced with the conflict he had half sought, was unable to respond to his nemesis.
"Do you dissolve in your ship, stupid HydrO?" the Squam demanded with sardonic flavor. "Do not fade out completely until I land; I mean to destroy you with my own pincers."
Jessica, finding Heem unable to answer, took over his communication system and responded for him. "Thank you for the good news, slayer of juveniles," she sprayed. "It will be my pleasure to destroy more than your stomach, this time, monster."
'What are you rolling?' Heem protested inside. 'I can't—'
"I'm psyching him out," she replied. "Making him uncertain, so he'll be nervous, make mistakes. It's good policy."
"Wait for me at the landing site, and we shall discover what shall be destroyed," Slitherfear replied.
"Oops," Jessica said privately to Heem. "I don't think it worked. He's either not scared, or he's a good bluffer." Then, into the net, she sprayed, "Why should I delay my mission for the likes of you, Squam? Catch me if you can."
"I shall, coward."
Heem suffered a surge of foul-tasting shame. Here, before all the contestants remaining in local space, he had been challenged and branded a coward. 'We must wait for his ship!' he needled.
"Don't be ridiculous," Jessica said. "Obviously the Squam has some reason for his certainty for wanting the showdown here. Otherwise he wouldn't have tipped his hand by broadcasting on the net. Maybe he has an acid-gun in his ship, or maybe he wants it where there will be several more Squams to help him out. We have to avoid him, or meet him in neutral territory, where we have an even chance. Let's get out of here, Heem."
She was rolling along most logically! Of course the Squam would not fight fairly, if he had any means to cheat.
Benumbed by the rapid roll of events, Heem moved out.
Chapter 6
Planet Eccentric
The surface of the planet was bright, with white washes of vapor against a blue welkin, a line of dark green at the horizon.
Heem rolled to a halt. "How can I see all that? I have no light-receptors! In the ship we were translating machine-input that derived from a visual source, but now I can only taste and feel. There can be no direct input from the sky."
'I confess, I cannot tell a lie, this time,' Jessica said. 'I filled in the imagery from my own awareness. I know what day on a planet looks like; I have made holograph paintings of it many times. I just don't feel comfortable, blind.'
"But if your picture differs from reality, and I am deceived—"
'That could be quite a problem when you encounter Slitherfear,' she agreed. 'I hadn't thought of that. When you fight the Squam, you have to have an exact notion of every detail. I think we can translate from your taste-input, but we'll need more work on it. So we'd better stay away from Slitherfear until we have it down pat.'
Heem was relieved to agree. He had to fight the Squam, but he wanted to do it in the most favorable situation for him.
'Still, I do have some direct input,' Jessica continued. 'I feel the sunlight on your flesh and the heat of the air; it has to be midday. So I know that whatever is visible, is visible.' And she strengthened the image.
Heem contemplated the scenery. It was lovely. He liked seeing, now that he had discovered how. His taste was unimpaired; he was aware of the pavement, the fumes of the ship's emissions, the nearby alien vegetation, and the line of tractors at the edge of the landing area. There was no harm in the vision.
Suddenly the tractors appeared, as Jessica caught his thought. Gross black machines with huge ballooning tires and metallic grills and complicated appurtenances.
"Oh, stop it!" he needled at her. "There is no taste of composition wheels or controls. The diffusion of taste indicates smaller sources than you show."
"Oops." The balloon wheels were replaced by metal ones, and the tractors shrank in size.
Heem rolled rapidly across to the nearest one. As he touched it, and picked up the flavors of its immediate vicinity, the oil spots and fuel drops, the taste and visual pictures merged. It was a treadlaying vehicle, with a single front wheel, just large enough for a sapient body. The controls were multiple, so that HydrO, Squam, or Erb could operate it. Heem rolled up the sloping side ramp and settled into the control chamber, familiarizing himself with the details. It was a standard model, with the jet-buttons organized in the normal HydrO mode. He could not decipher the Squam or Erb controls, but did not need to.
The next ship was coming down; Heem felt its vibration. Jessica, indulging her artistic propensity again, filled in the image: a sliver of bright metal balanced on a thin column of orange fire against a deep blue backdrop—
The fire cut off.
Heem jetted at the tractor controls. His engine wooshed into life. Fluid drove into wheel-chambers, and the vehicle lurched forward.
'What are you doing, Heem?' Jessica cried. 'Jackrabbit starts waste fuel!'
Heem did not answer. He aimed the tractor directly into the jungle at full acceleration. The vegetation loomed up, clarifying as Jessica interpreted the taste emanations of it: green stems rising from the ground, flaring into side-stems, which in turn flared into more side-stems. 'Watch out for those ferns!' Jessica cried. 'Heem, there's no need to careen off like this—'
Then the concussion came. The fern-trees swayed with the blast, and the tractor jumped momentarily from the ground.
'What was that?'
"The descending ship. Didn't you see it run out of fuel? It had to crash."
'Oh. Someone played it too close.' She was chastened. 'No wonder you got out of the way in a hurry! We could have been—'
"Destroyed," Heem finished. "As that contestant was."
'This competition—isn't supposed to be fatal, is it? I mean, the losers shouldn't—'
"Those who play it foolishly close can die. That pilot should have opted out, merely orbiting the planet until picked up. But he elected to risk it, hoping he would not crash too hard—and had he had moments more fuel he might have survived. It was a far lesser gamble than the one we took passing the Hole."
'Yes,' she agreed weakly. 'Do you suppose it could have been Slitherfear who crashed?'
"Hardly. Slitherfear is too canny for such a basic error. He was several ships back, while this one was the next following us. Slitherfear will only die when I kill him." If Heem killed him, instead of getting killed himself.
'Are you allowed to—to attack another contestant?'
"No. It will have to seem like an accident, or it could disqualify us if we win the competition. If we do not win the site, it will not matter; there can be no real enforcement of regulations here."
'But after what I said in your name on the space net, everyone will know that—'
"They will assume that was bluff. There are many such bluffs in such competitions, considered part of the byplay. Had I not been daunted by the sudden presence of my enemy, I should have acted as you did."
'Well, I'm still not sure it's proper,' she said. 'Promise me you won't attack Slitherfear.'
"But you were baiting him yourself!"
'Well, I changed my mind. It's a female prerogative.'
Heem could not admit that he was afraid to attack the Squam anyway. Maybe his new perception of sight would enable him to prevail, but he was hardly confident. It was one thing to contemplate revenge from the safety of distance, but another thing to roll it into practice. "I will, for your sake, try to avoid Slitherfear." He felt mixed relief and frustration. If only he had the power to destroy the Squam! Secure power, not just a hope. It wouldn't matter if he lost the competition for the Ancient site, if he settled with the Squam. He could die satisfied.
'Let's reverse those priorities. We will concentrate on winning the race. If we lose it, and all is lost, and we know I will die and you will be imprisoned, then we can go after your enemy. That would be the right time.'
That made excellent sense. At times the Solarian found channels of logic that were quite valuable.
Heem concentrated on his driving, using the jet controls to guide the powerful little machine through the jungle. These fern-trees differed from the plants of his home-planet; they only had partial respiration, depending on a network of roots to draw sustenance from the ground. He had studied this process and understood its alien nature. The fact that Jessica's visualization enabled him to perceive the plants with an alien sense only complemented the effect. Already he was getting used to vision, and even beginning to think visually.
There was a track in the jungle, circling the landing area. Heem guided the machine to follow it, picking up speed. This was not so very different from space piloting, in spirit.
'But how do we know where we're going?' Jessica asked.
Heem needled the tractor's information bank, and it sprayed a display of variegated flavors. "This is the pattern of the landscape," he advised her. "The keyed tastes mark fuel deposits, hazards, safe passages—"
'Oh, a map!' she exclaimed. 'I'm good at maps. Let me visualize it—there.' A colored picture-chart formed.
They contemplated it. The map indicated that they were on a large island girded with volcanic mountains, long rivers, broad plains, and deep jungles. At the center of the island was the destination, the object of the competition. The Ancient site. Heem felt a thrill of excitement run through him as he saw/tasted it, and was not certain whether it was his reaction or hers.
'Both,' Jessica said. 'The fascination of the Ancients appeals to all the sapient species of the Cluster. Even if it wasn't a race, I'd have to hurry to that site.'
"You know of the Ancients in your section of the Galaxy?" Heem inquired, teasing her.
'Of course we know of the Ancients! What do you think we are, savages? It was the Solarian Flint of Outworld who saved the Milky Way in the First War of Energy by penetrating an Ancient site. And I am descended from that great man, and my home is the castle where he liaisoned with Good Queen Bess and started my family line.'
"Roll cool, alien female! So a Solarian has tasted a site. Who knows, some century the Solarians may even achieve sapience."
She fired a mental needle-kick at him. 'You bastard! Just like a male!'
"You invite it. Just like a female."
She needled him again, but this time it was a more friendly jab, with a faint and intriguing flavor of sex appeal. Alien she might be, but she was reminding him more strongly of Moon of Morningmist. He remembered those first happy hours in the new valley, of association and copulation.
'Just as though there is nothing in the universe except sex,' Jessica said severely.
"Is there?"
'Oh, pay attention to your map! You're running into a mountain.'
So he was, in a manner of tasting. Heem guided the tractor to the side, skirting the ridge ahead. "According to the map, this is one trail of five threading through the terrain to the site. The problem is, with fifty tractors and narrow trails, it may become crowded."
'Crowded? It must be a thousand kilometers to the site! That's one tractor per fifty miles, average.'
Heem struggled with the alien measurements, unable to reconcile them with each other or with his own frame. He had knowledge of Solarian time-scales, but not distance-scales. "It is about two days' travel by machine, if there are not too many interruptions. But the tractors will not be evenly spaced; they are beginning clustered and will proceed at similar rates, since all are set at the same level of propulsion. There will be blockages at the difficult passes. If we get trapped behind such a block, the tractors on all the other trails will proceed beyond us. Then we will lose, regardless of what else happens on our own trail."
'Oh, I see. So we'd better pick a trail that isn't much used—or go cross-country.'
"No cross-country. Taste these intense lines on the map? Those are lava runnels. This planet is actively volcanic. We can cross only at the bridges."
'So there is still a good deal of luck involved,' she said. 'Those who happen to be in the wrong line, lose out.'
"We must arrange not to be in the wrong line. That way we mitigate chance."
'Gotcha. Let's study that map more closely.'
Heem pulled the tractor off the trail and parked it behind the large clump of ferns. "We dare not proceed too far on this trail until we are sure," he jetted. "I dislike delaying, but since the trails do not intersect again until after the fuel depots—"
'Fuel depots?'
"We shall have to refuel once. Machines
are not civilized; they must consume physical chemicals constantly, like Squams."
'Go ahead and needle it, chauvinist! Like Solarians too! Machines eat.'
Yet her words were pleasant, in contrast to her thought. He liked that counterpoint. In fact, despite what he knew of her nature, he liked her. She seemed so much less like a Squam than she had, now that he was well past the superficial points. After all, there were quite a number of species in the Cluster that consumed physical substance. Not all creatures who ate and had limbs were inherently evil.
'I should hope not,' Jessica said.
He kept forgetting that she could taste his superficial thoughts. Not that it mattered, anymore.
"The most direct route seems to be this one," Heem jetted, mentally indicating a line on the map. "Almost level, no swamps, only two lava bridges. Therefore a disproportionate number will follow it."
'Which makes it a bad route,' she said. 'Now here is the longest, windingest, hilliest route, with six lava crossings. No one will take that one!'
"Because anyone who does, will lose the race. Unless all four alternate routes get clogged."
'Which they might, if all the traffic goes on them. But what's to stop spaceship arrival number one from taking the shortest tractor route, and zooming along it without opposition, since no other tractor can catch up?'
"That is an excellent question. It simply cannot be that simple. These races are not designed for that sort of victory. There has to be something that prevents a rollaway victory for the first lander."
'I certainly don't see what—oh, do you mean monsters or something, lurking for the first arrivals?'
"No, this is supposed to be a low-hazard competition, which means the worst hazards are the ones we bring with us, like other competitors. There are very few animals on Eccentric, because of its climate. There may be undiscovered monsters in the wilds, but not on the marked trails."
'Then it seems to me it's backward. Each tractor that passes will chew up the ground some more, until it is virtually impassable. So the first tractor will just keep gaining.'
"That depends on the nature of the soil and of the treads. With laydown tracks like these, that approximate the sensible locomotion of HydrOs, the path may get better and safer each time—"
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