"Why spring it at all? I think we're going to win this case! Twild is really bearing down now. If we can keep Balook safe—"
"That's it," he said. "They think Balook will get off in the trial, so they're going vigilante—just to make sure he dies. That's how mobs are. If they can't get their victim fairly, they'll get him unfairly. If one thing doesn't work, they'll try another. They're lawless zealots."
"I'd like to exterminate them instead of Balook!" she said darkly.
"Maybe we can do that! We've got a much better chance of stopping them if we spring their first trap, and foil it—and catch them in the act. Then they'll be exposed, and maybe confined, and Balook'll be safe."
"Sounds risky to me," Barb said. "Balook could get destroyed, if we don't stop them!"
"Don't I know it! But we've already seen that we can't just let justice take its course. We won't stop them unless we expose them. This is our best chance, because they don't know we know."
"Just the same, it's not worth Balook's life! I'm calling the police."
"No! That will scare off the lynchers and we won't catch them. Then they'll strike tomorrow or some other time, and the police won't believe us, and that'll be the end."
"I hope you're making sense to you, because you're not making much sense to me!"
"Just promise me you won't say a word—until we're sure."
She sighed. "All right, Thor. But I think it's a mistake."
"I'm fixing the radio now. I don't think anybody'll notice it here on Balook, and you'll be able to hear anything loud. If I have to, I'll just yell."
"Thor, be careful!" she said. "I don't like this at all. Balook's not the only one I care about, you know."
"I know. Theria and Blooky are at risk too. I hate it, but I've got to do it."
"Them too," she agreed.
"Right. Bye." He scrambled down Balook's back and let himself down by the tail.
Only when he hit the ground did the significance of her last comment register. She cared for Balook, Theria, Blooky—and whom? He felt a warm surge. To have his love for her returned—it was still so new that he tended to assume it wasn't so.
The stable doors could be barred from the outside, so as to contain the big animals. They were pretty solid; this was no longer the jury-rigged tent setup, but a prefabricated structure of surprising solidity. Balook might be able to crash out if he really tried, but Blooky certainly could not. Also, if the animals were dazed by anesthetic darts—there was pretty potent stuff available, he now remembered, so that even the largest animals were not entirely immune—they would not be able to make much of an effort.
He walked up to the doors and checked the barring mechanism. Could it be dismantled, so that the doors would not hold? Then the rhinos could get out quickly in an emergency.
Thor saw that there was no simple way to sabotage the bar; it had been designed to resist abuse. He would have to get a screwdriver and remove the big screws embedded in the door; then the framework would not hold.
He knew where the tools were: in a shed by the side of the stable. He headed for them.
A man was standing there. "Come with me, boy," the man said as Thor approached.
"Sorry, I'm busy," Thor said nervously.
"I insist." The man's hand shot out and grabbed Thor's upper arm.
Charged like a power cell, Thor exploded. He threw off the man's hand and punched him hard in the stomach. He was a good twenty kilograms lighter than the man, but he caught his opponent by surprise. Air whooshed out of the man's mouth and nose, and he bent forward. He had been struck—largely by accident—in the solar plexus, the central complex of nerves.
Fevered plans flitted through Thor's head as he saw the man stagger and struggle for breath. Knock him out, take his clothing, infiltrate the lynch network, subvert their plot... but he knew these were phantoms. The man's clothes wouldn't fit him, he couldn't knock the man out anyway unless he hit him on the head with a wrench, the lynchers would surely know each other by sight. Also, their plot was too direct to be subverted: dump gasoline on the stable, ignite it, scram.
So Thor did what came naturally. He grabbed his tools and sprinted back toward the stable. He'd have to break Balook out now!
The stable door was open. Had he left it ajar? He charged inside. "Barb! Barb!" he called loudly, so that the radio on Balook's neck would pick it up. "It's started! Call the police!"
Balook's head swung toward him. Then Thor saw the blood on the animal's neck. Just above that blood was a jagged mass of plastic and metal.
The radio had been smashed. Apparently someone had come in the door and fired a shot at the radio, and the impact had wounded Balook again.
But he had heard no shot, and Balook had not been spooked. How could that be?
A silencer! A device to make a gun relatively quiet, so as not to attract attention. Of course they would use something like that for this.
"Oh, Balook!" Thor cried. He jumped on the lowered head and scrambled up the neck.
The injury was minor; just a series of scratches and bruises and some lost hair. Nothing like the earlier wound, from which Balook was now almost wholly recovered. Best to let this one bleed, clot, and scab over; though the damaged area was several centimeters across, it was no more than a pinprick to Balook.
But the radio was a complete loss. He had no way to warn Barb. Whatever happened, he would have to fight it through on his own.
Thor sniffed, becoming aware of something. Balook sniffed too. "You can smell better than I can," Thor said. "What is that odor?" But of course the animal could not tell him.
The fumes became stronger. It was an odd, pungent smell, a little like new oil-base paint, but with less flavor. Thor was sure he had run across it before—but where, when?
He sniffed again, and again. Suddenly it came to him: an exhibit. And old-fashioned boat show, with sails and motorboats. The type of thing used before the modern electrics took over. Gasoline motors.
It was gasoline. He had known it was coming, but had seldom actually smelled it.
"We've got to move, Balook!" he cried, alarmed. "Go on out that door!"
But the door had swung closed. As Balook nudged against it, Thor realized the truth: they had been locked in. By the very bar he had sought to disable. While he had been checking the radio and Balook's wound, the trap had been closing. What an idiot he had been, to let it happen!
"Break it! Break it down, Balook!" Thor cried, urging the animal forward.
But Balook balked. It was not that he lacked the power; it was that he was normally a gentle animal, not given to destruction. They had encouraged that trait at the Project. In nature there could have been few if any predators on his kind; Baluchitherium was simply too big. It was easy for a big animal to be peaceful, if it had nothing to fear. Only for extremely pressing reason would Balook become violent. Therefore he could not understand Thor's urgings. Perhaps he assumed that Thor was directing him back, away from the door.
Then a new smell came: smoke. Someone had ignited the gasoline, and it was burning explosively, setting fire to the stable.
Balook could never have smelled such smoke before, but generations of rhinos had experienced prairie fires. The effect was electric: Balook snorted, and all his huge muscles tensed.
"Out! Out!" Thor cried. Now he was glad he was here with Balook, because at least he knew how to direct the rhino's great force.
This time Balook understood him perfectly. He ran at the barred door, put one massive front hoof forward, and struck it. This was the kind of motion Balook's kind must have used in the Miocene Epoch, to knock down small trees whose upper foliage remained too high to reach. Certainly it came naturally to the animal. The door burst apart, the bar fastenings snapping. What had there been to worry about! Thor, like the lynching party, had seriously underestimated the rhino's power. They were out.
Flames engulfed the stable. The gasoline must have been spread all around the outer walls. The smoke was awful: roiling
black and red clouds of it rose into the sky.
"Theria! Blooky!" Thor screamed. "The other stables!"
Again, Balook understood, for this was natural to him. He charged the other stable, reared, and plunged both forefeet against the flaming wall. It was like a ten-ton battering ram, for most of Balook's weight was behind those hooves. The wall collapsed inward.
Thor choked on the awful smoke and buried his face against Balook's neck to shield himself from the heat. Balook had greater resistance, thanks to his insulative layer. The way had been cleared; now Theria and Blooky could get out.
But they didn't. "Move! Move!" Thor cried, and paused to cough. "The whole thing will collapse on us—"
But Balook merely stood, waiting for Theria—and Theria would not leave the burning building.
"For God's sake!" Thor cried. "What's the—"
Then he saw what was the matter. Blooky was tethered. He had been restrained while he wore the splint; the splint was now gone, and his broken leg healed— it had been a minimal break—but he was still restrained. He could not get away—and Theria would not leave without him.
Thor scrambled forward. "Down, Balook!" he yelled as he passed the animal's ear. Balook obligingly lowered his head, and Thor slid across the bent nose and dropped to the floor. He ran to Blooky and grabbed at the knots of the tether.
The job seemed interminable. Blooky wanted to get out; he was bucking about and bleating pitifully. That was what made it so hard. Thor didn't have a knife to cut the rope; he had to untie it. And he couldn't—not with this constant jerking.
Meanwhile, the heat was increasing, and both breathing and seeing were becoming harder.
"Balook!" Thor cried, and the animal came, trusting his friend to solve this riddle and get them out. "Take this rope in your teeth! Chew it, snap it!" He put the length up to Balook's fleshy lips.
But this was too complicated. Balook merely sniffed the rope inquiringly.
"Okay, then—your foot!" Thor cried. "Foot!"
Balook was familiar with this command, because of all the times he had had to lift his feet in turn for the farrier to trim the hooves. He lifted one forefoot, and Thor took advantage of a momentary slack in the rope to make a loop and pass it over the thick ankle. Then Blooky jerked away again, and the loop pulled tight. It could not slip off, because of the enormous spread of Balook's hoof.
"Now break it!" Thor cried. "Kick, Balook, kick!"
Feeling the tether, Balook did just that. Balook had never been tethered; he tolerated no bindings. He backed off and yanked hard.
Blooky was hauled roughly across the floor. But the rope held. Instead, another section of the wall ripped loose. More fire flowed in.
But Blooky was now free of the wall—and tethered instead to Balook. "Run! Run!" Thor cried, unable to worry about the tether when the fire was closing in.
Blooky got up and ran. Theria followed. But that brought the loop tight about Balook's ankle again. As soon as he felt its restriction, he kicked again. Blooky was thrown to the floor a second time, his two hundred kilograms no match for Balook's power.
"God, he's going to be dragged to death!" Thor cried, horrified.
But this time the rope slackened as Blooky rolled over against his sire's foot. Thor leaped for it, enlarging the loop, letting it fall free. Blooky still was tied, but now the rope dragged loose.
Blooky got up and ran again, apparently unhurt. Balook followed. Theria followed Balook. And Thor was left behind.
He had no choice. He launched himself after Theria, grabbed her tail and hung on. Her moving hind legs battered him, but she hauled him out of the blazing building.
Now there was nothing to do but ride Theria. He hauled himself hand over hand up her tail. She could have dislodged him with a single kick, but was used to people climbing her tail. Barb looked like a softly feminine girl, which she was, but she had hefty muscles in her arms, as did Thor, because of this constant climbing exercise. Now he realized that the rope-climbing exercise he had done during his two year hiatus was because he wanted to return to his friend and climb his tail again. That much of his wish had come true.
He clutched the thick folds of Theria's skin over her hindquarters. This was an excellent way to get killed, mounting a moving rhino, but it was the only way. He scrambled to her back.
Theria did not like it. Now she realized that it was not her mistress on her back, and she was every bit as finicky as Balook about such details. But her concern for her calf distracted her, and she tolerated Thor with only minor twitchings of her skin.
Blooky, meanwhile, was desperately dragging the rope and one burning patch of wallboard. He was afraid to stop, though the weight might have been as much as a hundred kilograms, because he thought the fire was chasing him. Balook thought so too, and wanted to attack the fire—but every time he stomped it, the rope went taut and Blooky was jerked up short, cruelly. Theria hovered between the two, not knowing what to do.
Thor didn't know what to do either. The situation was uncomfortable, but at least they were moving away from the blazing buildings. He wanted to get far from the fire and the compound, because the assassins might be lurking with guns, ready to finish the job they had botched.
Whereupon he saw two men with guns. Balook charged them, and they scrambled to safety behind a tree without shooting.
Why hadn't they shot? Immediately, Thor thought of the answer: if they killed Balook here, they would have no way to move his twelve tons back into the stable, and their "accidental burning" would be discredited. A bullet was not a fire!
But he still had to do something, for soon the police, ignorant of the true nature of the fire, would be out after the Baluchitheria. How could Thor protect them, until he had a chance to explain? The average person was terrified by the sight of such huge animals on a seeming rampage.
It came to him in a marvelous flash: he could take Balook to his own trial! Surely the animal had the right to be represented in person!
The burning wall fragment sluffed off parts of itself, and the flame reached the rope. Suddenly the main mass was severed, and Blooky had only the length of tether to drag. One problem solved!
"Whoa, Balook!" Thor called, and Balook halted. Theria halted behind him, and Thor was ready to transfer. "Head down, Theria!" he called.
But he was not her mistress. She would not lower her head for him.
"Oh, good God!" he exclaimed. "Theria, you know me! All I want is to get off you and on Balook. Then everything'll be just fine. But you have to let me down."
That logic was too sophisticated for her. Obdurate, she stood.
"All right, I'll slide down your tail," Thor said, irritated. He moved back. But as he crossed her rump, still some four meters high, she gave a little stomp with one rear foot. Not a kick, just a minor gesture. He knew that gesture; he had seen it on occasion. It was her signal that she was losing her patience with indignities. Such as a stranger climbing down her tail.
Thor perched, exasperated. He could not ignore Theria's warning; she had a mind of her own, and about eight thousand kilograms to back it up. Beside Balook she looked relatively petite, but he could break his leg jumping down her side. She had to let him get down— and she refused.
But in due course, when she got sufficiently annoyed, she might simply throw him off. One irate sweep of her nose across her back would finish him. He could not afford to wait for that!
"Come on, brain—there must be some way!" he said, pulling at his hair as if to loosen the gray cells beneath.
Balook approached, sensing Thor's distress. He wondered why Thor was choosing to ride Theria instead of him. The big nose came to nudge Thor's shoulder. "Careful, Balook, you'll shove me off!"
Too late; Balook was used to nudging Thor when Thor was firmly planted on the ground, and a meter's worth of shove didn't matter. Here, it was disaster.
"Balook!" Thor cried as he lost his purchase. He flung out his arms to grab Balook's nose, his feet dangling helplessly betw
een the two great animals.
Balook lowered his head slowly, as was customary when someone was riding it, and Thor's feet touched. But Thor did not let go. "I'm across!" he exclaimed, surprised. He scrambled on up the massive neck. Why hadn't he thought of it before?
"On, Balook!" he cried, rejuvenated. There was such a difference between mounts!
HE GUIDED BALOOK cross-country toward the town, until there was no alternative to the road. Then the parade pre-empted one lane of a car route. There was some commotion and staring, of course, but not nearly as much as the first time. Too many thousands of these people had seen the great rhinos; they were no longer such a novelty.
He located the court building and guided Balook up the broad pseudo-marble steps. Theria and Blooky followed dutifully.
Fortunately the court building was palatial: one of the town's few concessions to old-fashioned conspicuous grandeur. The main doors were ten meters tall, framed by gothic columns, and even the internal doors on the ground floor had clearances of seven meters. The court rooms had commensurate domed ceilings. It was as though it had been built with Baluchitherium in mind.
They tromped down the royal hall to the court room where the trial was being conducted. The door was closed, and Thor had no way to open it; he had to stay on Balook so as to guide him. "Push it open!" he cried, urging the rhino into it.
The door did not open. Instead it tore off its hinges and slammed down to the floor beyond. There was a collective gasp from the audience inside as Balook burst into the chamber.
The judge and jury turned amazed faces toward the animals. As Balook strode into the center of the chamber, judge, jury, bailiffs and lawyers scrambled unceremoniously for the far side. This was just as well, because by the time Thor managed to bring Balook to a halt the judge's bench had been overturned. The rhino was not used to precise maneuvering within a building.
"We've only come to attend our own trial!" Thor called. "They tried to lynch Balook..."
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