by Steve Perry
“Yes, Leader.”
Leader!
There were moments of static, and then slowly the acknowledgments of contact began to come in.
Finally, when full communication was engaged, Bakuub began.
“Lar’nix’va is dead. I am the new Leader of this pack.” He paused for that information to be assimilated. “The oomans in the settlement have begun a dangerous program transforming Hard Meat into warriors. It must be destroyed. We shall need to join together for a ground assault upon their program, under my direction.”
Questions poured in. Defiance. Disbelief. Tactical advice.
“The evidence was presented earlier. We cannot utilize our ships. The airways above the settlement are secured by weapons we cannot match. However, we have allies within the compound.” He paused for a moment and his mandibles clicked dramatically, like the clashing of daggers. “It shall be a Hunt of Great Honor, Great Glory, I promise you.”
Growls and snarls of enthusiasm.
This was language that the yautja packs understood.
24
The sun set.
All day long Machiko Noguchi, expecting some sort of attack at any moment, had watched it rise in the sky, then slip down through the afternoon. She requested a scout be set up. The yautja had assented. Silent and inconspicuous surveillance, after all, was one of their specialties.
However, there was no sign of active pursuit.
According to the relay of information, another scout had seen a couple of copters trolling through the air, but this was absolutely casual compared to the kind of military manuevers that she was expecting.
There was nothing more, though, and it made her a little nervous.
When the last of the sunlight slipped down over the edge of this beautiful world, the new Leader of the yautja, the warrior named Bakuub, came to them. He informed them that the warriors were ready and that they would prefer to do battle as soon as possible.
“Please, Attila Explain to him that the preparations are not quite ready.”
Attila had acquired a much larger vocabulary that day, and by now he was able to speak with greater facility and diplomacy. Nonetheless, it did not take much understanding of his language to realize that Bakuub was not happy at the news.
The warriors were straining at the bit. They hungered for action. They longed to avenge this slight upon the sanctity of their place in the universe.
Eventually, Bakuub went away, but only after a great deal of reassurance that soon they’d be on their way to scoop up many trophies.
They had collected, all told, fifty Predators for the attack. This was not as many as Machiko would have liked, but at least it represented several packs. Against this kind of opposition, they certainly would need more than a pack, no matter how excellent their battle skills were.
“Look, I don’t know how long we’re going to be able to stall these guys,” said Machiko. “What’s going on back at Evanstonville?”
Even though she’d had some sleep during the day, she felt tired. Unusually tired and ill at ease, and eager to get at this thing herself. They’d spent half the night planning it with the help of Ned Sanchez and the three others he had corralled to take part in the rebellion. She’d been surprised that he’d been able to get so many. Dick Daniels hadn’t been difficult. From the very beginning the man had not liked this particular setup. “Fishy to the extreme” were the words he’d used. It was Daniels, though, who’d seen the opportunistic value of a rebellion such as this. “Shit. You knock out this crappy genetic-lab operation, you whack the bosses—you’re in charge. You got the spaceships, you got the whole friggin’ world. I’ve always wanted a world to myself.”
Machiko had pointed out that this was not at all their goal—that they simply wanted to stop the obscene and dangerous genetic engineering. She hadn’t mentioned the Company subversives. They had a big hump to get over. If they got over it, they’d figure out the rest later. However, it was the “even more riches” line that Daniels used on MacCraken and Marino, and Machiko was glad he had, because it worked. Not that Lou and Jim were not appalled at the truth of what was happening here—they were simply mercenaries, with a taste for loot and adventure. It had taken a very long time, through the medium of Attila’s burned body, to explain the situation, to convince them. Finally, what it came down to was cold, hard cash. Nonetheless, their roles in the rebellion could be minimal, though vital. She and Sanchez, along with the horde of yautja, could deal with the principal part of the operation. But they were going to need some serious help in getting to that point alive.
“What’s going on back in Evanstonville?” said the head of Attila the Hun. “Just about the same thing as when you asked ten minutes ago.”
“Yes, but when do you think we can be ready?”
“You’re going to have to ask Sanchez yourself, because I certainly don’t know.”
“But where is Sanchez?”
“Out getting ready, I suppose—”
“Look, I know it takes a great deal of effort, but could you please tune back in and see if he’s gotten back to Operations Headquarters?”
“Operations Headquarters” was a tool shack behind the garage which they were using for a base.
“All right, all right. Hold your horses.”
The light in Attila’s eyes momentarily dimmed as he made the necessary interneural connections.
They brightened again.
“There. I’m through. You can speak,” said the android.
“He’s back?”
“Yes.”
Machiko leaned closer to Attila’s head, which served as her microphone in these communications.
“Sanchez?”
“Yes, Machiko.” His voice sounded weary.
“How’s it going?”
“Well.”
“Good. What time tonight can we make the raid?”
There was a pause. “Look, Machiko. I’m not so sure that tonight’s the right time.”
“What! Why not?”
“Zorski called in all the troops. They’re patrolling. Armed to the teeth. It’s like they’re expecting you or something. It’s hard to coordinate this because they’ve got us out there too.”
“You mean it’s impossible.”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just that—well, we were up most of last night, and we’re pretty damned tired.”
She thought about this. Not good. On the other hand, she had the pack of Preds in fighting trim and ready to go. Nothing worse than a huffy, impatient pack—and there were numerous packs here. Hell, they’d start fighting with each other!
“Look, I can sympathize. I’m tired, you’re tired. But you’ve got stims, right?”
“Sure.”
She sighed. “Then you’re going to have to use them, because it’s gotta be tonight.”
Another pause.
“Okay. You’re the boss here. I guess I’m going to have to go with what you say, Noguchi.”
“When can you have the setup ready?”
“No earlier than midnight.”
“Midnight’s a little too dead-on. Let’s make it a half hour later.”
“You got it.”
She was half expecting more complaints. When she got a positive answer, she was taken aback, but relieved.
“As planned?”
“As planned.”
“Fine. We’ll count on you. And you know what to do if there’s any problem.”
“Twist this body’s right hand off.”
“Yes, but only in an emergency. I think it’s going to be as hard to get back on as the head.”
She switched off.
“You had to remind me,” said Attila.
“Look, pal. You had better hope we get you and your erstwhile body into the same room together eventually,” said Machiko.
“Oh, that’s all right. I’ve always been rather cerebral anyway.”
“Attila?”
“Yes.”
“Heads up.”
>
She tossed him in the air like a basketball, caught him on the way down.
“You’re the kind of gal who tries a poor android’s soul, Machiko.”
She grinned, feeling a little better.
“Thanks. I’m starting to appreciate better that you’ve got a pretty special one, Attila.”
“One favor, then, Machiko—that is, if we get through all this?”
“Yes?”
“Can I get a new name? I think I’m going to want to disassociate myself totally from this war business.”
She looked over at the group of yautja, fencing and sparring and exercising in the glow of their lanterns beneath the cover of their bower.
She took a deep breath.
“I think I know exactly what you mean,” said Machiko Noguchi.
* * *
At midnight they met at the base behind the garage.
Sanchez.
Daniels.
MacCraken.
Marino.
Ostensibly, they had turned in for the night in their rooms at the barracks, pleading exhaustion after a long day’s work. As mercenaries, they were not under any particularly strict military pattern, cut off from the rest of the security forces, especially now that their leader had gone rogue. However, Sanchez had figured that it would be best for the operation if anyone in even vague authority believed that they were presently visiting slumberland and not planning outright and total mutiny.
Sanchez drew in a lungful of smoke from his cigarette. “All right,” he said. “Are we all clear on our orders? Have we all got the equipment we need?”
“You bet,” said Lou MacCraken, holding up his compact but quite effective incendiary device. It had been programmed personally by Sanchez for maximum pyrotechnics, maximum noise. “Gee, I always wanted to blow something up.”
“You want mine, too?” said Marino, looking down with extreme misgivings at his own device.
Since Sanchez doubted these two soldiers’ abilities the most, he’d given them the simplest things to do.
All they had to accomplish was a simple jaunt to an area on the southern perimeter of the settlement, farthest from the biogenetics lab. Here they would set their bombs by the force-field emplacements. They would blast away the perimeter barrier with maximum effect, leaving a gaping hole in the preliminary defenses.
Many troops would then disperse to meet with presumed attackers.
However, they would find nothing.
Meantime, Sanchez and Daniels would go to the appropriate section of the perimeter fence itself and turn that off quietly and discreetly. Fortunately, Dick Daniels had the circflow experience to accomplish this, without a great deal of trouble. “You just gotta know which fuse to fry,” he’d explained. Even Attila had agreed this was the proper tactic.
At that point Machiko would lead the Predators to the lab.
The rest would come naturally.
She’d instructed them as to the lab’s layout. They’d be equipped with plasma blasters, not just sharp weapons.
It seemed to Sanchez a bit of a suicide mission on the part of the aliens. He just knew they couldn’t accomplish this on their own.
“You haven’t seen these guys working as a group before,” Machiko had said, adding that it would probably be best if all four just stayed out of the way and came to clean things up when it was over.
All four seemed to think this was a marvelous notion.
“What about the other guys?” said Lou.
“They’re getting paid for fighting. They’re going to earn their money,” said Dick Daniels. “If all goes well, they’ll survive, and Evanston and the others won’t—or will be taken prisoner. At which point we’ll be the ones who will offer the fighters money. And they’ll be our mercenaries.”
“Which means, as our own bosses, we’re just going to have to pay ourselves double, right?” said Marino cheerfully.
“Hey. Just don’t fry your goddamn chickens till they’re hatched,” Daniels said.
“Yeah, something like that.” Ned Sanchez got up. He started to distribute the weapons and ammo and equipment he’d swiped from the nearby magazine.
“Everybody know what they’ve got to do?”
They all knew.
“Everybody got your comms on the prearranged frequency?”
Namely, one that Zorski’s men would be able to pick up, accidentally or on purpose. Daniels had done the handiwork on that one, the sly fellow.
“Good,” said Sanchez. “We’ve got a new job to do, and I’m here to tell you it feels a lot better than the one we were stuck in before. Now, let’s go do it and live to tell the story over some beers.”
They charged out into the night.
25
“Time?”
“One half hour after midnight.”
Machiko Noguchi looked around at the Hunters gathered impatiently behind the car. They looked startling in the dim moonlight, like primitive gods sprung up from ashes of past bonfires, wild and slavering for revenge. The night smelled of blood and horror, and her heart beat with adrenaline and with purpose.
“Bakuub?”
She gestured in a questioning challenge method, a kind of stirring motion meant to bring up a fellow’s blood, charge him with kinship and all the finer points of bonded honor.
“We hunger for it!” proclaimed the Leader of the Predators, his snarling voice muffled through his mask. He pounded his hand blaster on his armor. A stream of words came out that Machiko did not quite recognize.
“Destruction to the outrage and the perpetrators of this abomination,” Attila interpreted.
“My sentiments exactly,” returned Machiko.
She thumbed a switch on the car’s control panel. The motor throbbed to life. Her senses were so keen now, she instantly smelled the engine discharge.
“All right,” she said. “All we have to do now is wait for the diversion.”
They waited.
This waiting seemed to be a bit of a strain upon the Predators. They had ceased their warming maneuvers and now stood tall and still against the night, ready for the Hunt, but Machiko could sense their impatience, their bloodlust. They would as soon charge the settlement now, diversion or no diversion, but their patience and obedience to their new Leader held them in check.
The same patience of lions, hanging back in the bushes, waiting for the proper time to lunge and give chase to a herd of antelope.
Problem was, this time the herd of antelope was heavily armed!
“What time is it?”
“Two and a half minutes late,” answered Attila.
“What the hell is taking them?”
“There’s no way to tell. They’re all out—I hope doing their jobs.”
Another moment passed.
“Dammit,” said Machiko. “This is what we get for using a damned body as a radio. There’s no way to carry it around with you.”
“A relay system could have been concocted, but it would have been difficult to regulate. No, Machiko. Have confidence. You have chosen your allies well. They are good soldiers.”
Machiko looked yearningly toward the settlement.
Its taller buildings were in its center, and they gleamed in the moonlight, the smaller outlying buildings huddled around them like children gathered around parents. The genetic factory was one of the farther buildings to the northwest, but it was to the west that the attack party was skulking; this was the portion of the fence that Daniels claimed could be most easily deactivated.
Then, as though in answer to her mental commands, the diversion began.
The bright flare of an incredibly incandescent explosion leaped up from the far side of the settlement, like a knife in the sky.
Moments later another separate explosion of radiance, slightly more amber and jagged, shot up—a rocket flare, without the rocket.
Yes!
Machiko called out, “Advance!” raising her hand at the same time: the agreed-upon semaphore.
They moved
out.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” said Attila.
As though in agreement the thunderous sound of the initial explosion finally reached them. The second echoed soon after, even louder.
“Ah!” said Machiko. “That should get their attention. That should bring their forces to that side. Meanwhile, we go in through the side closer to the factory.”
There were two Predators lying on top of the roof riding shotgun, and the added weight slowed the vehicle down somewhat. However, as fast as the Predators were, they still clearly struggled to keep up. They did not complain. The fighting frenzy was upon them, and they had plenty of strength and energy to draw upon.
Less than a kilometer separated the fence and the factory.
When they reached the perimeter, Machiko noticed a shimmer.
Her heart leaped into her throat.
What—were the force fences still up?
What had happened to Sanchez, goddammit?
However, as they got closer, she could see that a section of the fence was down, and two figures were gesturing at them.
Sanchez and Daniels, waving guns.
“Come on, come on!” Daniels yelled. “There’s a damned good chance, diversion or no diversion, they’ve spotted you on sensors.”
“I thought you took care of that,” said Machiko.
“I did. You just never know.”
The two opened the back door and hopped into the backseat while the car was still moving.
“Hey! I thought you two were going to stay out of this part. I thought that was the agreement.”
“Hell with it,” said Sanchez. “You go, we go.”
“Yeah,” said Daniels. “Anyway, I want to see what they’ve got in there before you and your weird aliens blow it all up.”
Machiko had about one moment of consternation and concern, which instantly changed to appreciation and a kind of hard, flinty, steely love. A comradely love born of brethren in arms.
“Okay, it’s your butts. Off we go—”
“The Alien Mobile!” said Daniels.
Sanchez said nothing. He just got his gun out as Machiko hauled ass toward the factory.
“So there you are,” said Daniels, leaning his brawny visage over the seat and regarding Attila’s head, snuggly fitted between two boxes so that it wouldn’t roll around. “I must say, it’s been damned strange working with that headless body of yours, buddy.”