The self-satisfied look on Attila's face melted. "Machiko. I would never do such a thing."
"No. No, of course not. I'm sorry. Thanks. Good move. Now let's get back to home base."
"To confront Livermore Evanston on this matter?"
"No. We've got to give the situation some thought first." She remembered then to buckle her harness. "The Hunters are doing their bug thing-but why here?"
* * *
Chapter 12
It seems obvious to me," said Attila the Hun, lying on the bed in a relaxed state.
Machiko Noguchi stopped her pacing. She looked at her android warily. Since that little flying stunt a couple hours before, she was seeing him in an entirely different light.
She knew he'd had a "life" before she'd bought him. She didn't know about the programs that still existed inside him. What other residues of past talents, past memories, existed? Attila insisted that he had no memory of being able to do what he did-at the time his sensors detected trouble, something had just kicked in, and he'd had access.
This was something they would have to explore.
For now, though, there were other matters to attend to.
"I'm glad. Would you care to enlighten me?" she said, hands on hips.
"You'll have to pardon me, but I'm merely operating on what you tell me about the Hunters--your tales of your experiences with them."
"Yes, yes, go on."
"Well, it strikes me that they've got a fairly simple game plan. They like to find likely opponents, likely places to perform their rituals of honor. And, frankly, think about it Blior is perfect. If their lives are the feral art they consider them, then for Predators this must be a masterpiece planet."
"A what?" Machiko asked.
"Masterpiece planet. It sounds as if Ryushi was being used as a training ground for young Hunters."
She nodded. "Blooding."
"That was their apprentice work, then. Whatever the word has come to mean since then, a `masterpiece' used to be the article a craftsperson made to earn his or her master status. Blior is the place Hunters may earn `master' status, in effect."
She nodded. "Yes, well, that's pretty obvious. But go on for a moment. Any other thoughts?"
"Yes. The reason it's a masterpiece planet is that there's nothing the Predators like to Hunt better than other hunters .... It's the ultimate challenge, right?"
"That's right. Unlike our race, they won't Hunt `innocent' things-except possibly food."
"A noble breed." Sardonic twist of phrasing. "Anyway, somehow they discovered the operations on Blior, and they saw what a perfect place to Hunt it would be."
"But why bring on the bugs as well?"
"A little twist, a little spice. Who can say? Perhaps this was a world where they'd already Hunted bugs before, and they were just returning."
She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. If there were bugs on this planet before, there would have been a spillage. That's one of the problems when the Preds play with the things-they get loose and start breeding."
"Sloppy sorts."
"Let's just say that their sense of honor is a bit tunnel-visioned."
"So they're here-and they know now that we know they're here."
"I think that's what the lawyer was so excited about. And unless my guess is wrong, Evanston's got a suspicion as well."
"More than a suspicion. I mean, he has physical evidence!"
"Yes."
"He somehow seems to know you're associated with them."
"I don't think he knows as much as he strongly suspects."
"It stands to reason . . . after what happened ...."
She let out a breath, shook her head. "The pieces still just aren't there-"
"Seems pretty pat to me," said Attila. "He's got problems with anomalous intelligent creatures as well as the bugs-and he's just trying to get this project off the ground. Can you imagine the bad publicity if word gets back to civilization? Why, this business venture would be a total bust! Who would want to go hunting on a world where the hunters are the victims? I dare say that Evanston is a rich man, but no matter how rich he is, I'm sure that he couldn't afford a failure on this magnitude." Attila nodded. "A man like Livermore Evanston takes time to go get you to help, you know it's got to be this magnitude of importance."
"That does work . . . logically . . . but there's another level."
"Something intuitive?"
"Yes . . . that T-rex . . ."
"Not a curious resurrection .... Ideal, if you think of it .... What with the taste for hunting as it is, I would think that resurrected dinosaurs would be perfect for hunting."
"Yes, of course. I'm talking, though, about the level of sophistication a biolab needs to create the size and scope of a tyrannosaurus rex!"
"You're saying that it could create a lot more .... Well, isn't that the idea? To create fantastical and wonderful creatures for rich people to shoot?"
"You're not getting the point. What else can it create? Why is Evanston being so secretive? Why won't he let us look at the inside of that big biolab factory?"
"He hasn't refused-just his underlings."
"Well, then, I guess that's the next bit on our agenda, isn't it? We're going to have to ask."
"And if he won't let us see what's inside?"
She smiled. "Then we'll have to find out on our own, won't we? And we'll know that something intriguing is there."
"Of course. I'll take you through the factory tomorrow morning, if you like," said Livermore Evanston, absently tapping ash from his cigar. "There are more serious matters that have to be dealt with immediately, though." The large man leaned over his intercom, hit a button. "Would you send in Brookings and Zorski, please?"
Machiko had to work hard to maintain a blank expression. This wasn't exactly what she'd expected. Attila was going to give her a great big "I told you so" when she let go of this bit of news.
Evanston was sitting in a comfortable ergonomic chair, in a comfortable smoking jacket. His perch in his office building gave him a panoramic view of most of the beautiful, growing expanse of this fabulous settlement that would soon be one of the more wondrous cities in the universe.
Evanston did not look his usual happy and confident self.
The teak-paneled door opened. A man and a woman entered. One Machiko recognized: the man who had come up to them and talked to Evanston on their arrival. The woman, though, was a different matter entirely. She looked like the kind of corporate sharpshooter that Machiko was supposed to have been. A Company woman from sleek black hair to perfectly manicured fingers.
Introductions were made and remade.
Abner Brookings. Lawyer. Meet . . .
Chelsea Zorski. Head of operations. Meet . . .
Hello, Machiko. I hope you can help us.
Good to meet you. I did some of the background work to dig you up. You can just call me Chet.
"Sit down. Have a drink. Tea or coffee or harder stuff, I don't care. It's time not just to think-tank this situation . . . it's time to take action."
They all looked like drinking people. However, they all passed over the ample supply of liquor squatting atop a corner cabinet like a model of a city of multicolored skyscrapers.
Instead they all went for coffee.
Black.
When it was steaming and aromatic before them, as Machiko took the first few acrid sips, she studied this woman Chet Zorski.
First and foremost, she was a corporate shark. Machiko could smell that as she walked in. It was in her perfume and shampoo, her very breath. The shine of her eyes, the flash of her perfect teeth. The tailored hang of her clothing. These people could have been made in biolab factories, for all she knew; they had the perfection of pre-modeling about them.
Zorski had a cleft chin, a square jaw, a nose as perfectly angular as could possibly be desired. Bright blue eyes. Wide cheekbones. A shock of black hair. Bland stuff in general, but the congruence gave her a sharp and feral look, and the flashing of t
eeth made her look bright and hungry beneath the smoothness.
"We hope you're well situated," said Evanston.
"Yes."
"You've met your people," said Zorski. "Had a little dustup with one, I hear."
"Good for morale."
"Absolutely. So . . . what do you think of them?"
"Motley, but they'll do."
Zorski beamed a little at that. "Good. I thought you'd be able to look past the rough edges. I looked for a lot of special qualities in these men. Experience being paramount."
"Experience with the bugs, you mean."
Zorski looked at Evanston as though for permission.
Evanston nodded.
"Yes. The bugs."
"Look, there're some things we've got to talk about-"
"Yes. It's time to level with you, Noguchi."
She was taken aback. There was no longer confidence and control in Livermore Evanston's face. He looked, in fact, a bit at a loss, a bit desperate.
Machiko sat back in her chair, maintaining her calm, hard facade. "I'm listening."
"It's not just the bugs." Evanston turned to Abner Brookings. "Please, Abner . . . tell Ms. Noguchi what happened the other day." He swiveled to deliver a sincere stare at Machiko. "With this caveat. As my employee, you are directed not to discuss this with any of our other employees or guests. It's of a quite sensitive nature."
"What about my people? And my assistant?"
"Only if absolutely necessary for the men. However, your assistant is an android and clearly secure."
"I appreciate that."
"Go ahead, Abner. It's your show."
"Thank you. Ms. Noguchi, I'm one of the head lawyers for Mr. Evanston. A highly trusted employee. There are a lot of legal things that have to be worked out for this new world, of course, in its interface with the rest of galactic civilization. That's my job. However, I also fancy myself a bit of a hunter. And so I take a bit of a vacation here from time to time. I was on just such an expedition a few days ago. And that's when this awful incident happened."
Machiko listened as Brookings told his story.
A safari.
Invisible attackers.
Death.
Himself, the only survivor.
When he was finished, a silence fell upon the meeting.
"Mr. Brookings was given a thorough evaluation by psychtechs afterward. It would appear, Ms. Noguchi," said Evanston somberly, "that indeed we are not the only hunters on Blior. Indeed, these other Hunters presumably alien, since there are no extant civilizations on this planet-are the source of the bug problem as well."
He looked significantly at Chet Zorski.
"Yes, Machiko. And as you might have suspected, that's one of the reasons you were selected. We believe you know who these creatures are-and how to deal with them."
She looked at them all, one by one. She said nothing. Stare for stare. They looked away.
"I should emphasize," said Zorski, "that we are not prying into your past, your background. We do not want a confession here. We are just asking for knowledge . . . and for help...."
"And for you to do your job," added Evanston.
"Or bail out and take off, as our agreement states?" Machiko asked.
Evanston frowned. "That's up to you."
"No, wait . . . ," objected Brookings. "I worked up the language in that contract. There's a clause-"
"Yes," snapped Evanston. "A clause that I took out."
"It's not as if she can really go anywhere you don't want to take her," said the lawyer in a cold voice.
"Look, Brookings, I want-need-the best we can get from this talented woman. I told you-no goddamn legal tricks." He snorted. "Like the law has that much value out here."
"That's the idea. It's elastic. That's why I'm here," said the lawyer. "To help you form it into the shape that is best for you."
"Look, if I want to get out of this place, there are other ways than going up," said Machiko.
"Gentlepeople, gentlepeople," said Zorski, a conciliatory smile on her face. "Please. I don't think you need to worry about Ms. Noguchi's enthusiasm for this particular project. You see, I chose her very well. I think we have a fascinated, very enthusiastic leader on our hands now . . . don't we, Ms. Noguchi?"
"Yes. Damn you." She couldn't help but smile.
Brookings shook his head. "I don't understand. This is going to be dangerous. I assure you . . . what I went through . . . These bastards are dangerous."
"Please, let's just say I have the feeling these aliens are old allies, old enemies of our employee," said Zorski. "And besides, she's so much better off than she was before, under the shackles of the Company . . . ."
"Don't worry. I'm here to do a job and I intend to do it, and do it as well as I can."
Livermore Evanston visibly relaxed. "You can bet I'm glad to hear that, my dear. We need you."
"Okay. Now you level with me. What more do you know about these Hunting aliens?"
"Much less than you do, clearly," said Brookings.
Machiko looked from face to face.
All were unreadable.
"Well, I guess I should be grateful for what I've gotten out of you gentlemen. Now, thank you for your coffee. Maybe I should get my force whipped into shape so we can do something about scouting out this situation. Hmmm. Meantime, I'll look forward to that tour of the biofactory tomorrow."
"Why are you so interested in what's going on there?" said Brookings.
"It's just in her nature," said Zorski. "Extreme curiosity."
"No, I really think we're due an answer," insisted Brookings.
She didn't think she should tell the whole story, since she was sure they weren't spilling all their beans.
"We were doing recon. Something came up while I was checking the area."
"You just let her look around?" demanded Brookings.
"Yes. I gave her permission personally," said Zorski. "And after getting the okay from His Nibs here." She pointed playfully toward Evanston.
"Well, I appreciate that but let me tell you, I saw something very troubling ...."
"Don't leave us dangling so," said Brookings sarcastically.
"I saw a dinosaur." She gave the creep the glare he deserved. "A tyrannosaurus rex, to be specific."
"Ah," said Zorski. "The T rex."
"Not surprising. A big creature," said Evanston.
Brookings looked a bit taken aback. "But . . . those things are extinct!"
"Precisely," said Machiko. "Which means that biolab is doing some pretty heavy-duty stuff."
"Wow-that's truly big game!" said Brookings, looking a little disconcerted, but at the same time excited at the prospect of actually bagging a dinosaur.
"Yes. As I told you, we want to make things interesting for our guests," said Evanston.
"Of course. I understand. You did explain that .... I only thought that you might be manufacturing creatures of interest to these mysterious Hunting aliens, these Predators, as it were."
Evanston was all smiles again. "Of course. I'd never thought of that. And you'd be the person to distinguish that, wouldn't you? Excellent. As I said, I'll give you the tour myself, to be as much help as possible . . . ."
"Tomorrow morning?"
"That's right. Tomorrow, right after you get back from your maneuver, Machiko?"
"What? I haven't even gone through any training with these guys!" said Machiko. Suddenly this business with the biolab factory wasn't a primary concern.
"You'll do it on the fly," said Evanston. "Because tomorrow my hired mercenaries are going out to scout the area where Brookings and his band were attacked."
Chet Zorski pulled out a map.
* * *
Chapter 13
Bakuub, Straight Spear, stared down into the holding pen of the yautja starship. There a kainde amedha stalked its prey. The bisor, a small doglike mammal from the surface of this Hunter's World, whined and barked as it scampered as far as it could go into the corner. The Hard
Meat, a youngster not yet a good Hunter's challenge, crept forward infinitely slowly, drool from its secondary jaws slathering the floor, savoring its approach and kill as much as it would doubtless savor the juices of its food.
Bakuub, however, brooded upon other matters than this life-and-death drama below.
Something was happening in the ooman settlement. Something of great gravity and importance. The yautja named Bakuub could feel the electricity crackling through the atmosphere of this planet, and he felt entirely ill at ease.
He had sifted through the remains of the ooman Hunting party they had killed, through their supplies and weapons, but the detritus contained no clue as to what was being concocted by their leaders.
The encounter with the female ooman while Hunting the big creature they had discovered, that was just as troubling as the creature itself, a monster that was not native to this planet. The oomans had seen the yautja. The oomans had killed one of their number. How? Lar'nix'va, though he struggled hard not to show it, was clearly troubled. Bakuub had heard tales of the female ooman Dahdtoudie, whom Lar`nix`va had fought with. Surely this was not the same one ....
Bakuub had wanted to do some kind of detailed exploration of transmissions and emanations from that settlement, utilizing what little of that sort of equipment they owned. The other packs Hunting now on this world had been notified, but they did not seem as concerned as he. And he, alas, was not the Leader here. Lar'nix'va was the Leader, and Lar'nix'va was a fool.
Bakuub could see straight through the tareihsan offal. A yautja like Lar'nixva did not have the best intentions of his people at heart. A yautja like Lar'nixva cared not for True Glory, merely for his own stupid ambitions. Normally this would not be troublesome, for fools such as he were eventually found out and dealt with, hoisted on their own petards. But in this ticklish situation, with much at stake, leadership by such a fool could be dangerous for the yautja's cause.
Bakuub would have to monitor the situation carefully. True, tendencies toward personal ambition were rife among the yautja. That, after all, was a part of their nature. Ego was a genetic as well as a cultural development in the True Dominators. Ambitious fools tended to get themselves killed at an early stage of warriorhood; however, an occasional hothead would advance to Leadership and make a mulch of things-a situation not considered particularly bad, but, rather, a challenge part of the OverPath's progress. But at a ticklish time like this, such Leadership was not opportune and could cause a great deal of trouble.
Aliens vs Predator 2 - Hunter's Planet Page 12