Starswarm

by Jerry Pournelle

  There was even the possibility of a criminal running from the GWE company cops. One fugitive had killed a technician only the year before.

  "Give it back!" Kip grabbed for his cap and missed as Marty backed away. "Give it here!" He rushed toward the bigger boy.

  "Hey-hey-keepaway!" Marty laughed and tossed the cap to Benny. Kip ran toward Benny, and the cap was tossed to Hank. Hank tossed it back to Marty again.

  Kip had never played that game, and gave them a lot of laughs as he rushed from one to the other, never able to get his cap. Finally he stood panting. "Give me my cap!"

  Nothing like this had ever happened to Kip in his whole life. When Uncle Mike took something away from him, he always told why. But they just tossed his cap around and laughed.

  Then Kip ran after Marty, and Hank came up behind Kip and took his gun. Kip hadn't thought anybody could ever be that stupid. He screamed with all the rage and frustration an eleven-year-old boy can manage. "Give me that! Give it here, or—"

  "Or what, sissy?" Marty laughed. He came over to Kip, towering above him, and laughed again. "Or what? You'll shoot us? You've lost your gun!"

  Hank held up the weapon and shouted. When Kip looked that way, Benny got on all fours behind Kip, and Marty pushed. Kip fell and the others laughed—

  There was an ugly snarl and Silver's teeth closed on Marty's shirt. Both fell to the ground. The big dog stood above Marty with bared fangs, and his growl was pure hatred. It rose in tempo.

  Hank was trying to point the gun at Silver when Kodiak and Dawson struck him. Kodiak took the gun arm and shook it, worrying it until Hank dropped the gun, while Dawson dove for Hank's throat. He was ready to kill.

  "Dawson. No. Back." Kip said it carefully, so they wouldn't get more excited. The dogs were confused. They'd been told to protect human children, then one of the people they were supposed to guard had attacked their master. They didn't know what to do, and fell back on instinct. If something threatens your pack, kill it! You lived longer that way on Purgatory.

  "Back, Dawson! Silver!"

  Silver left his pose over Marty and pushed Dawson away. Then both dogs stood with the others of the pack, ten snarling feral faces, fangs bared, the hair on their backs standing straight and stiff and high, all of them in a big ring around Kip.

  "Gun, Kodiak!" Kip ordered. The dog trotted over and retrieved it. "Cap." He got that too, then rejoined the protective circle.

  Marty was scared. He got up, looked at Kip and the snarling dogs, and the gun in Kip's holster. "We didn't mean nothing. We were just having fun."

  Kip couldn't understand that. It certainly hadn't been fun for him. "You don't ever touch other people's equipment," Kip said. His voice was a shrill cry and he swallowed hard before he talked again. The dogs growled nervously at his tone. "I need the cap. The radio's in it. And without the gun we could all be killed. That's stupid. Stupid!"

  "I said we didn't mean nothing." Marty turned toward the station. "Come on, guys. Let's go back. We don't need him." The three older boys walked away, leaving Kip standing in his circle of dogs. The others walked on the trail, scuffing their feet and kicking more holes in the bluish grass and breaking the runners.

  Kip stood breathing hard, almost crying, until they were over two hundred meters away. Then he remembered that Uncle Mike had told him to take care of the other boys. He couldn't let them walk back alone. "Silver. Big Ruth. Diamond Lil. Help them get home."

  Big Ruth growled.

  "You heard me," Kip snapped. "Silver! Go!"

  Silver barked at Big Ruth, and the three dogs trotted toward the retreating boys. Kip ran after them, suddenly afraid. They'd got a long way off, and they were walking on a trail that hadn't been used recently. Then they went over a low hillock and were out of sight.

  Chapter Five

  The Centaur

  THE centaur trembled. It crouched all the way to the ground in the tiny shrub cluster, back legs splayed out behind, front the same way, arms hugging the ground but forward to part the foliage just enough so it could see through. It hadn't wanted to come this close to where the Things lived, but it was such a long way around to the trees, and the Things didn't usually come out in the afternoon.

  But they had come out, four of them, and ten of the furrykillers with them. The centaur snarled in contempt. The furries couldn't catch him! And he'd run and run and when the fastest of the furries ran ahead of the others he'd turn suddenly and snap its neck and there'd be meat tonight!

  But more than the furries he wanted a Thing. He'd eaten Thing once. It was good, very good. But you couldn't just run up and grab a Thing. They had knives and axes like People, and they had those other weapons that could reach out to kill much farther than People could throw an ax. The centaur didn't understand these weapons. The People had only recently learned about bows, and they couldn't use them very well. He knew that Things could kill far away, though, and he knew what the weapon looked like.

  And then he saw a very strange thing. He had never seen anything like it before. He had neither the intelligence nor the language to understand or to tell the other People. His language was extremely concrete, and was mostly used to express such concepts as "Food out there" or "give me Food" or "good Eating." He struggled to understand what was happening.

  The Things fought with each other. The centaur had seen that before, but never this close to where the Things lived. Usually, there would be one Thing alone in the lands, and other Things chased it or came from the skies, and killed it, and left it, sometimes, and when they left it there was Food. That was how he knew Thing tasted good.

  But almost in sight of the Thing grove the four Things fought, and the furries fought against one of the Things, and the weapons of the Thing were thrown about.

  And now three of the Things walked toward his hiding place. The centaur looked at them very closely, but he didn't see any weapons at all. The only weapon was with the Thing that stayed at the water. The others went by themselves, and these were small Things, smaller than he was, and they didn't have any furrykillers with them!

  Food! He bared his fangs and his claws dug into the tundra at the thought. If he grabbed one and ran, the furries could never catch him. They weren't close enough. The other Thing had a weapon, but he was far away, and Things couldn't run even as well as furries, and furrykillers couldn't run as fast as People. Nothing in the world could run as fast as the People. The Things had fliers, noisy and big, and those were fast, and sometimes they rode strange devices that were fast, but these Things were alone and didn't have any of their devices. They'd never catch him. Or be able to run away from him. And no weapons! He looked again, and he was sure.

  He gathered his legs under himself, carefully, carefully, no rustle of the shrubs, no movement to give himself away. Now they were almost where he wanted them, in the bottom of a shallow bowl. He waited at the rim, on the opposite side from the Thing with a weapon. Would it see him? But what could it do?

  Food! Food! No weapons! Small Things! He tasted Thing, his tongue hung out and drooled. Food! He no longer cared about the other Thing and the furrykillers or anything but Food! He sprang from his cover and raced down the bowl.

  Chapter Six

  You Took on the Duty

  KIP saw the moving shape before he heard the screams from the others. He ran as hard as he could. "Silver! Centaur! Kill the centaur! All! Centaur!" The dogs raced ahead, all but Kodiak who stayed with Kip to search ahead where Kip would run, and Dawson who hung behind to watch the boy's back.

  There was a chorus of growls and snarls from the charging dogs, then Silver howled a full hunting cry. Another. A third.

  "Kip! What's going on out there?" It was Uncle Mike speaking through the phone in Kip's cap.

  Hurriedly Kip thumbed the button on the cap and spoke into the microphone. "They ran ahead of me. Centaur after them!"

  "Right." Uncle Mike wouldn't waste time with more questions or talk. Whatever was going on, if those boys had any chance it had t
o be from Kip. Before there could be any help from Starswarm Station it would be over, one way or another.

  Kip reached the top of the rise. All three of the others were still on their feet. They'd scattered, and the centaur was confused about which one to chase. Now it turned toward Marty.

  Kip knelt, raised his gun, and fired. The winking blue-green light flashed in front of the centaur, centimeters from his nose. Another, a pin of fiery light at its feet leaving a cinder and a puff of smoke. The centaur sprang and pivoted, turning away to spoil Kip's aim. More flame burst at his feet.

  He turned and ran for his life. The furrykillers! Two of them on the ridge of the bowl, heading him off, and others snapping at his heels! He fumbled the ax from his belt.

  There was a shrill whistle, and the furrykillers froze in their tracks. The centaur pivoted again and raced between a group of them. The furrykillers watched, growling but unmoving as the whistle sounded again. He ran a long time and he didn't look back until he'd got clear away.

  Uncle Mike gave him the worst licking he'd ever had in his life. It was only the third time Uncle Mike used the big leather belt. Usually he just used his hands.

  Kip bent over the big bedstead and stuffed the quilt into his mouth, biting hard so he wouldn't yell. Uncle Mike always added three or four more if he yelled.

  Finally it was over. Kip stood in the bedroom snuffling, trying not to cry.

  Uncle Mike sat on the bed and put his arm on Kip's shoulder. "You understand why, Kip?"

  "Yes, sir. I said I'd look out for them." He sniffed and swallowed hard.

  "Yes. You took on a duty. You didn't have to. But once you take on a duty, by God you do it!"

  "Yes, sir. But they took my cap, and my gun, and pushed me down, and one of them tried to shoot Silver, and—"

  "You told me that."

  "But they did! They really did! and you don't believe me!"

  "Kip, I believed you the first time you told me," Uncle Mike said. He drew Kip closer to him. It was nice there, held against Uncle Mike, but it hurt, and Uncle Mike wasn't fair!

  "I believe you, Kip, but it's got nothing to do with what you did. You were supposed to be in charge. You had the only weapons, and you had the dogs. You shouldn't have let them take your gun, and you shouldn't have been dumb enough to let one get behind you. But after all that, you still had the duty and you didn't do it. When they walked away you should have been with them."

  "Yes, sir." Kip began to cry in earnest now. He felt ashamed, and it hurt, and—

  Uncle Mike shook his head slowly. "Am I pushing you too fast, Kip? Trying to make you grow up too early? But it's been so damned long, and we've got so much to do, and—and, aw, DAMN IT TO HELL!" But he wasn't mad at Kip anymore and he clutched the boy tightly to him, and Kip lay his head on Uncle Mike's shoulder and cried and cried because he didn't know what Uncle Mike was unhappy about and that was worse than the spanking.

  Marty tried to tell Dr. Henderson that Silver had attacked him without warning or provocation. "He's a killer! That dog tried to kill me!"

  "I should have thought he saved your life," Dr. Henderson said. "He and Kip."

  "Ah, that thing couldn't have hurt me! It wasn't hardly bigger than I am."

  Dr. Henderson thought of the fangs, and the thick claws on the left arm, and remembered a centaur that had lifted a caribou and broken its back with a single snap. He shuddered. Well, they'd learn—

  "You going to do something about that dog or will I have to?" Marty demanded.

  Dr. Henderson's lips drew tighter. "Martin, if you touch that dog I will make you wish you had never been born—"

  "He's a killer! Tried to kill me!"

  Lara had been sitting around the corner of the porch nursing her arm that was sore from another vaccination. Now she came into sight, laughing. Her tanned face was split by a wide grin, and her blue eyes twinkled, and she roared with laughter.

  "You laughing at me?" Marty demanded.

  "Sure. If Silver tried to kill you, how are you standing here talking to us?" she said. She laughed again. "And if you ever did hurt Silver, Daddy wouldn't have to do a thing, because the whole team would take turns biting pieces off of you—"

  "That will do, Lara," Dr. Henderson said. "But, Martin, she is right on both counts. If Silver had wanted you dead, you would be dead. And if you harm him, I do not know which would be worse for you—for someone to be there to stop the team from tearing you apart so you will have to face me, or for there to be no one around."

  "Aw—"

  "Now go home. I must speak to your father. Not only did this happen, but you have disturbed the Starswarm. That could be extremely serious." Dr. Henderson's face was grim as he watched the boy shuffle away. "I hate this," he told his daughter. "I hate administration and problems and—"

  So Lara knew her father was having more troubles with the Starswarms. Sometimes he thought he understood them, but then they'd do something else. Last night at dinner he'd raved because they'd found a big Starswarm in the sea and not only did it have chemically pure metals stored in little nuggets surrounded by thick tissues, but some of the nuggets were sorted by isotope.

  And that was impossible, and Dr. Henderson wanted to think about it instead of worrying over a fight among the station's children.

  Chapter Seven

  You Have Ample Means

  KIP thought that saving Marty's life would cause the older boy to make friends, but he soon found out different. Marty had always been the leader of any gang he'd been in. To be obligated to this younger outsider was more than he could stand.

  He knew better than to try violence with Kip again. Kip never went anywhere without Silver and usually other dogs as well, and Marty remembered only too well the sound of those teeth closing with a snap only a centimeter from his throat.

  There were other things he could do, though. As long as he didn't actually hit Kip, the dogs didn't pay any attention. So every time he came close to Kip, he pinched him. He was careful never to do it hard when any adult was watching, but if there wasn't anybody watching he squeezed and twisted until he left bruises.

  He would also steal and destroy any of Kip's things he could get hold of. He tried a few times to humiliate Kip too, but that never worked very well, but the other persecutions went on and on.

  Marty learned to shoot and always followed the rules when anyone was watching, and soon he had his own gun. After all, he was nearly thirteen.

  Hot summer came and no one went outside unless they had to. The tundra had sprouted big leaves and rich foliage, shrubs everywhere, as the plants frantically tried to spread surface area to gather sunlight and make food to store against the coming winter. Even if it weren't so hot that no one wanted to walk outside the fences, it was too dangerous. Anything might lurk in that rich growth.

  The scientists went to the ocean and lake stations by helicopter when they went at all. There were only three air-conditioned rooms in Starswarm—four if you counted the station's laboratory, but the young people couldn't stay around there much.

  There was the mess hall, where the children ate in a shift without adults. The dogs didn't come inside. In the mess hall, Marty could put too much salt on Kip's food, or slip pepper under his mashed yellowroot, or hit him when nobody was watching.

  There was the game room. Marty didn't have as much opportunity there because adults used it all day too, but he could move the chess pieces when Kip wasn't looking, or hide his books, or pinch him.

  Finally there was Dr. Henderson's living room, and Marty couldn't even come in there. Kip and Lara would sit there and talk or watch TRI-V or play games until Mrs. Henderson would send them out. "Time you played with the other children! Go on, get out and have a good time!"

  She meant well, but she was pushing Kip into the lion's den.

  Hank and Benny weren't a real problem for Kip. They'd been thoroughly scared by the centaur. Marty, though, was turning Purgatory into Hell for Kip.

  There came a day when Mart
y had pinched Kip, put salt on his ice cream, and broken his radio. This last Kip couldn't prove was Marty's doing, but it seemed pretty certain.

  He went home and sat in his broiling hot room and cried.

  "What am I going to do?" he thought. "Maybe I should kill myself."

  "THAT SEEMS EXTREMELY INADVISABLE. HAVE YOU CONSULTED YOUR UNCLE MIKE?"

  "Yes. He says I have to learn to solve my own problems. He thinks I should fight. I can't fight. I could kill Marty with my gun, or a knife, or an ax, or the dogs, but I can't fight him because he's bigger than me. I hate him. Nothing's any fun anymore."

  "WOULD IT BE SATISFACTORY IF HE WENT AWAY?"