by Steve Perry
"Hey, we're celebrities, man, check it out," Tom mumbled.
Scott smirked. It was true; the locals had gathered around each of The Lector's crew with smiles and backslaps.
"Guess they don't get out much," Scott whispered.
A tall, husky man, about forty TS, with a red beard and a grin stepped toward them. He held out two cups of beer to the pilots. "Ackland's the name," he said, extending his large hand. Tom shook it, then Scott. "I'm head of the local ranchers association. How was your trip, Captains-?"
"Strandberg," said Tom. "But just call me Tom. This is my copilot, Scott Conover. The trip was fine."
"Nice to meet you, sirs. Hope you and your crew are ready to party; we got some nice steaks on the grill-" Ackland leaned closer and lowered his voice. "And we got some fine young ladies looking for dance partners, I'll bet. That is, if you're inclined that way-"
Scott grinned. "You bet. Tom here was starting to look pretty good near the last leg of the trip, if you know what I mean."
Ackland chuckled, a forced and overly jovial sound, and clapped Scott on the back. "I thought so," he started. "You know, I was-"
"Can I have your attention, please?" A short Japanese woman in a green suit stood on a chair a few meters away, a dinner tray in hand. "Can I have everyone's attention, please?"
She was pretty, that one. Scott looked her up and down. Nice legs, nice butt. A little shy in the breast department, but Scott had seen worse.
"Who's the babe?" he said quietly to Ackland. Tom elbowed him in the gut. Damn feminist.
"You mean bitch," Ackland replied. "Nitrogen queen. That's the boss."
"I know you're all anxious for the festivities to begin, but first I have an important announcement." The crowd calmed as everyone turned to look at her.
"Loading will proceed as follows-Ackland, you're first on deck. Harrison's next, followed by Luccini and Marianetti. The rest of the assignments will be handed out tomorrow at dusk." She paused, then smiled.
"One more thing. The company gave their answer on the price adjustment-you'll be getting the increase you requested. Enjoy the party, everyone."
She stepped off the chair to the sounds of scattered clapping and hoots of excitement.
"Go figure," said Ackland. "Maybe she's good for something after all."
Scott took a long gulp of beer and then laughed. "I could think of a few other things she might be good at."
Tom rolled his eyes, and Ackland shook his head. "I wouldn't try it. Noguchi probably doesn't uncross her legs to take a shit, you know?"
"Too bad," mumbled Tom. He wandered off.
Scott took another slug and belched softly. "Takes all kinds, right?" he said, and looked into his cup. Not bad for a local brew. He picked out the Japanese woman again and studied her smile as she talked to some rancher woman. Ackland was babbling something about the weather, but Scott watched Noguchi.
Dust ball it was, but the place wasn't a lost cause. He swigged more beer and turned his attention back to Ackland. Anything could happen in three days, no matter what the rancher said. Hell, nitrogen was his specialty . . .
Noguchi walked toward the ops center, the party in full swing behind her. It was definitely a success, in more ways than one. A few of the ranchers had warmed toward her after the announcement, and she had kept up a steady patter of innocuous conversation for at least two hours. Nice people. And she had been doing a good job of nodding and smiling
Although one day doesn't undo six months of stupidity, Machiko.
Right. But it was a start. It had finally hit home that Hiroki would be leaving with The Lector. A vague sadness had come over her, along with a desire to be alone for a little while. He was perhaps her only friend . . .
She walked into operations to see only one person manning the screens.
"Collins, right?" she said hopefully.
The young man nodded and stood up.
"Go join the party, okay? I'll watch things here for a while."
Collins's eyes widened. "Really? Thanks, Ms. Noguchi."
"It's just Machiko from now on." She smiled at him and moved by so that he could pass.
"Uh, okay," he said. "Machiko." He sounded uncomfortable with her first name but he smiled back. He started to walk out and then turned.
"Oh, listen-when Doc Revna gets back, tell him the home office received his report. It's in the tray with his notes."
Noguchi frowned. She had seen Fem Doc at the party, but Revna hadn't been around, had he?
"Gets back from where?" she said.
"Said he was going up to Iwa Gorge to look for something," he said. "He signed out a hover bike a couple of hours ago."
"Today? Bad timing," she said.
"Yeah, that's what I said." Collins shrugged. "But he said it was important. Listen, thanks again."
After he had left, Noguchi sat at the console and gazed at the radar, lost in thought. She hadn't expected much from Hiroki at the beginning, but he had been unfailingly patient with her. His professionalism was top-notch; it would be sad to see him leave . . .
She shook her head and glanced around for something to take her mind off of Hiroki. Doc Revna's report lay in a basket nearby, but she hesitated picking it up. What if it were private information-?
Then he wouldn't have let Collins send it, he would've done it himself.
Brilliant. She picked up the stack of hard copy and leaned back in her chair. What the hell was in Iwa Gorge, anyway? She liked the doc, he was a smart man. She leafed through the papers and settled down to read, with a silent wish for Revna to find whatever it was he was looking for . . .
Kesar trained his binoculars on the sight at the bottom of the gorge and inhaled sharply. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands shook. It was incredible. It was unbelievable.
A dozen or so humanoids stood surrounding a large craft, the likes of which he had never seen. The ship looked like a cross between a fish and a huge engine tube, it was tinted a strange greenish hue, with a broad ramp set into the ground.
The humanoids were tall; he couldn't be sure because of nothing to show relative size, and the scaler in his scope was malfunctioning, but he would guess two and a half meters, maybe a little more. More amazing, they appeared to be carrying . . . spears.
Revna had stopped halfway down into the gorge, had parked his bike near some rocks twenty meters behind him or so. The adrenaline in his system was screaming at him to go back to the flyer, now. Big aliens with spears did not seem like the kind of folks you wanted to meet by yourself in the middle of the desert. But he couldn't stop looking at the amazing sight.
He hit the full magnification button and the creatures zoomed closer. Tall, muscular, definitely armed. Still too far away to get a good view and it was also too bad the scope's scaler was out of whack, he wanted to get a size on them.
Whatever they were, they were definitely not human. Now here was a discovery that would get his name in the books. Not just a new species of spider or crab, but sentient aliens!
He watched for another half minute. What were they doing here? What were they? A hundred questions formed and tried to rise all at once. Incredible.
He licked his lips and focused on one of the alien faces. Some kind of mask it wore, like the others. Breathing gear?
He would go back to town, get some of the ranchers, some photo equipment-
Kesar blinked. One of the creatures turned and looked at him. It threw back its head, its long, odd braids fell back. A long, crazy howl filled the canyon, echoed off of the cliffs, and beat at his ears, joined by others.
Impossible, he was mostly hidden from view, and he could hardly see them with the scope. They couldn't see him.
But they did. He knew for sure in a second.
When they ran toward him, waving their spears, screaming.
* * *
Chapter 9
Dachande spun, tusks flared, as the cries of his brood vibrated through the gorge. Sounds of challenge, of aggression. His gaze followed the
path of the running yautja to a place in the rocks where
Ooman!
Warkha spoke behind him, but the words were swallowed in the frenzy.
Dachande gave orders without looking.
"Tell Skemte to prepare flight and gather those you can! Ki'cte! n
He ran, blade in hand. The Hunt would have to be aborted, but the ooman would die first. There was no other way. Dachande cursed mentally and ran faster.
He was almost to the rocks when the noise of a craft starting hit him.
Damn! If the ooman got away, it would bring others!
He saw that at least two of the students had already made it to the place he was headed, Chulonte and another, he couldn't tell-
The small flying craft came over the rise and struck Chulonte at chest level.
A single ooman manned the ship, was balanced clumsily at the controls, hair swept back from an ugly, pale face.
Chulonte scrabbled at the craft to hold on, but the ooman ran the flyer close to a rock face. Chulonte's skull cracked against the cliff and he fell suddenly boneless to the ground, the mint gray-green of his brain tissue mixed with the darker phosphor-green of his blood splattered on the stone.
Cjit! The Hunt had not even begun and already he had lost a student. Damn!
The ooman's craft was turned by the collision. It roared and swerved past Dachande and headed straight for their ship, the ooman's intentions unknown.
The Leader ran back toward the ship. He screamed the death cry to all: kill the ooman!
It would pay with its life for the death of Chulonte.
Revna ran to his bike, his stomach an empty hole. Stark terror made him fumble the starter. His hands shook uncontrollably.
"Start, please, oh, please, start, start-" He heard his own voice and for a moment it sounded as if it belonged to someone else.
The cycle roared to life. Relief rushed through him, cool and welcome. He stepped on the accelerator, hard, thinking only of escape.
And he flew directly into them. He topped the rock formation, his thoughts clouded with panic; turn, turn, turn, fool-
One of the creatures leapt up in front of him. He tried to swerve, but it was too late. The impact jarred him from his seat; he would have fallen except for the reflexive grab at the handles. The alien was huge; Revna caught a whiff of some musky, bitter oil. Its screech was one of pain and fury. It grabbed for him.
Without thinking, Revna veered toward a cliff wall. The screaming thing smacked into the rocks, hard, and then was gone. He tried to regain control of the scooter but the impact had thrown him into a turn. And the controls were damaged, he couldn't turn, the flier responded sluggishly.
ALL right, don't panic, it's okay. He would have to use speed to get past them, have to go so fast they couldn't catch him, couldn't spear him-
Another of the creatures reached for him, but he passed it. Revna smashed on the accelerator all the way forward as a blast of incredible heat blew by him. He ducked, felt his facial hair singe.
The craft didn't want to alter its course. He was going to pass right next to the ship.
Altitude, he had to get high enough so they couldn't grab him!
The repellors still worked, he managed to trim the elevators and start to climb. Five meters, seven, still heading right at the ship but he would clear it-
Another blast of heat, this one splashed the underside of the flier, cooked plastic and metal. The repellors coughed and the craft dropped a meter, sputtered.
That was no spear! They've got guns! Lasers, plasma rifles, Jesus!
He raised his watering eyes just in time to see that he was headed for the alien craft at high speed and that -he wasn't going to clear it.
He was going to hit it dead center---
Miriam---
It was his last thought before the world turned to fire.
Dachande saw the ooman fly at the ship and he ran faster. Most of the students were clear, but at that speed, an impact could cause damage, big damage
The tiny flier smashed into the ship and blew apart in a fireball that shattered both craft. A second later came another blast, bigger than the first. Flame and debris sprayed, scorched rocks, moved boulders, knocked over delicate formations that had stood undisturbed for millions of years. Huge chunks of burning ship flew through the gully as the hunters were blown to the ground by the blast.
After a moment Tichinde stood and looked around at his fallen peers. He waited to hear direction from the Leader, but there were no instructive cries.
Other yautja rose to their feet, dazed. Small pools of mi burned, their flickerings reaching into the dusk, carrying in their fumes the smells of ash and soil and oily death.
The Leader had fallen not far from Tichinde. Several of the others stumbled with him to where Dachande lay.
The Leader was barely alive, his mandibles caked with thwei. Wreckage had hit him, knocked him into dhi'kide, the sleep near death.
A quick survey showed them that Warkha, too, was dead, and the other Blooded had been on the ship that still burned and smoked and looked now like nothing so much as a gutted crab. No one would be leaving this world on that vessel. And it would be weeks, months, years perhaps, before anybody came to look for them Not good.
When all of the students alive had gathered around Dachande, Tichinde counted. Ten of them. No transport and no elder to tell them what would happen.
"What will we do?" From `Aseigan.
"Dachande still breathes," said Gkyaun. "We could-"
"You are a medic?" Tichinde snorted. "He is beyond the aid kits, look at him. Let him die honorably of his wounds, wounds sustained in battle." He waved at the smoking ship. "The ooman deliberately attacked us and killed our ship. Therefore, we will kill the oomans, that is what we will do. Dachande lives but his time is short."
Aseigan growled. "Who proclaimed you Leader?" His voice was thick with contempt. "You will not lead me. And Hunting Soft Meat is forbidden to unBlooded, even a fool such as you knows this."
Tichinde grinned and pointed his burner at the yautja. `Aseigan took a step toward him, arms high.
Tichinde fired.
The blast blew Aseigan against a pile of smoking rock. The others leapt back in surprise.
"Others dispute?" Tichinde swung the burner in a circle. "I will spill your thwei as easily as I do that of the ooman dogs later! This is not a Hunt, as that dead slave-to-rules thought, but self-defense. We are allowed to defend ourselves from attack, are we not?" Once again he waved at the ruins of their ship.
None of the nine disagreed. They watched him warily, hands close to their own burners. There was a long moment when a Challenge might have come, when one of the nine might have taken it upon himself to raise his burner and try him, but that moment passed. If another would be Leader, he would have made his move and none did.
Tichinde smiled. They would follow him, reluctantly or not.
He raised his staff to the sky and screamed of revenge. When Gkyaun returned from the wreck and handed him the smoldering ooman skull a moment later, Tichinde crushed it with bare claw to the approving hisses of the others. It had killed itself and bravely in the doing, so it could not be a proper trophy. But there would be others to be earned.
The yautja chanted and howled their approval into the night. Tichinde sent them to scavenge for whole weapons and armor.
They were stuck here. So be it. The oomans would be sorry they dared attack the yautja. Sorry they dared to cross blades with Tichinde.
Very sorry.
* * *
Chapter 10
The disparity in ratio between the smooth-backed specimens and the single carcass with dorsal spines not withstanding, I believe the differences between the two types represent sexual indicators-not of the specimens themselves, but of the zygote or "egg" that each carries. As stated above, none of the specimens is equipped for independent life, their sole purpose seems to be nothing more than that of a living delivery vehicle-an ambulatory penis, if you
will.
Noguchi tapped her cigarette without looking at the tray and skimmed back to the top of the page, totally absorbed. This is what Revna had gone after? Why hadn't he told anyone? Why hadn't he told her?
While it is risky to postulate so much from such a tiny sample, we need to know as much as possible about these specimens as quickly as possible. If my assumptions are correct, or even near the mark, we're dealing with only one stage of this organism. The hybrid silicon-carbon cell construction would lead-
'Ambulatory penis,' huh? Conjures quite an image, don't it?"
Noguchi jumped in her chair and turned quickly, heart pounding. A tall man with blond hair and beard stood there, grinning. He swayed slightly on his feet; from the smell of him, he had been drinking. A lot.
She stood and backed away a step. "You're from The Lector, right?"
The stranger took a step closer. "Hell, I fly that bucket!" He belched softly. "Scuse me. Scott Conover atcher service."
Noguchi smiled but inched back a little more. His intentions weren't exactly clear but one thing was . . .
"You're drunk, Mr. Conover."
"Yeah, but not too drunk, if you know what I mean. You're Ms. Nogooshi. I've been watching you-"
"It's Noguchi," she said coolly. "And you can call me ma'am."
Conover laughed and reached out to take her hand. Noguchi tried to pull away, but the pilot gripped her wrist tightly. He leaned close, his alcohol breath moist and pungent. "I heard about what a tough lady you were, the company ramrod, right?" His words slurred together slightly.
The drunken pilot tried to pull her hand down to his crotch. "I got your ramrod right here, ma'am," he stage-whispered.
Noguchi narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Scott couldn't find the Jap girl anywhere; he wandered around - for a while and eventually he heard some guy say that she was watching screens.
"Operations," he said to no one in particular, and stumbled in that direction.
The door was open. He was torn between the desire to march right in and woo the woman and the desire to piss, which had gotten pretty overwhelming He compromised and peed on the entry frame before his imminent conquest.