Hunters of the Red Moon

by Marion Zimmer Bradley,;Paul Edwin Zimmer

  Her mouth lifted in a small smile and suddenly she looked younger and prettier. "I think I've just had a compliment," she said. "Thank you, Marsh. I'll talk to Roxon. I've known him for a long time, and I'd trust him with my life, my personal fortune, and my scientific reputation, if that's any indication."

  "Look. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend—"

  She shrugged. "Forget it. You have no reason to trust him, nor has he any reason to trust you. He has a prejudice against inhabitants of habitable worlds which haven't joined the Unity."

  "How in—how could I join your what's-it, Unity, when nobody on our world was ever given any inkling that it even existed?"

  "I didn't say Roxon's prejudice was rational," Rianna said coldly. "I said he had such a prejudice. I was stating a fact, not making a value judgment. But Roxon would probably say there must be some good and sufficient reason why your world has never been offered the Unity."

  That sobered Dane a minute; but it was pointless to get involved in discussing that right now. As Rianna was turning away he stopped her a moment, and said suddenly, "Why is it, then, that you trust me?"

  Another small shrug. "Who knows? Maybe it's just your pretty blue eyes. Or maybe I'm using Dallith as a barometer. And speaking of Dallith, she's staring at you with that wistful look. Maybe she can't eat unless you hold her hand. You'd better go and cheer her up while I talk to Roxon. None of us ought to behave in any strange ways while we're plotting, or the Mekhars might get wise."

  She went off, and Dane glanced around for Dallith; but she was not looking at him, and Dane did not at once make a move toward Dallith, following Rianna with his eyes. What were her real feelings? Did he know her well enough to judge even the most elementary ones?

  Rianna knelt beside Roxon where he sat alone with his empty food tray still on his lap; she put her head close to his, and Dane watched anxiously. The one thing that must not happen is that any of them should seem to be plotting or conspiring. Or would the Mekhars even notice? But surely it would be dangerous, for people to begin to gather in groups, talking secretly, whispering, trying to avoid being overheard—

  As he watched, Roxon dropped the food tray, put his arms around Rianna, and drew her down beside him. Dane thought, suddenly a little shocked, Like this? Right in front of everyone? In a cage? Then he told himself sternly not to impose his own standards—one little corner of one little planet—on others; even on some parts of Earth this behavior might be quite natural; some South Sea islanders not only made love in public but expected you to join in and got offended if you didn't. He forced himself to look away, as they drew closer together.

  Dallith said quietly in his ear, "It is not what you think. Does it matter to you?"

  He turned, startled and a little abashed. He said defensively, "Remember, I'm the guy from the backwoods planet who doesn't know the local customs—or rather, knows only his own local customs—"

  "It is not the custom of my people either, but you know what I am, I can sense emotions, and I tell you again, there is no desire between them—if that matters to you."

  "I don't give a hang what they do," Dane muttered. His ears were red and he was furiously angry at himself because she could read his embarrassment. "Why should it matter to me?"

  "My people never ask ourselves why other people are as they are," Dallith said coolly, "since we cannot escape the emotions which make them behave as they do, it would be only an added trouble to ask ourselves why. I am embarrassed only because you are, but there is no reason for it. They are pretending it, and if you think a moment you will surely understand the sensible reason for their pretense."

  "No. That I can't understand. Why should they—oh. You mean, so the Mekhars won't think they are conspiring?"

  "Of course. Rianna is very clever," Dallith said. Her large dark eyes dwelt a moment on the two closely intertwined bodies, half clothed, heads together, whispering, and she smiled. "It is, of course, the one thing they could pretend to do which the Mekhars would never trouble themselves to suspect or to interrupt. It is part of their arrogance, you understand. This, perhaps, you do not know—how proto-felines look down on us proto-simians because—how can I say this? You are embarrassed and I cannot help feeling what you feel—"

  She looked at the floor and moved her foot restlessly. "Well, to put it very simply: we proto-simians are supposed to be continual slaves to our sexual appetites. So when you look at Rianna and Roxon, and you think they are talking privately, and perhaps it is suspicious; the Mekhars would look at them and think, oh, yes, just like those ape-people, whatever else they might be doing, how like them to stop and—and fornicate. You see? Rianna is clever."

  "She is," Dane said. "I'd never have thought of that." He felt ruffled and on edge. Even Aratak had said something like that, You proto-simians are involved so much of the time with your reproductive cycle.... It was a little humiliating to be thought of as part of a race which thought of nothing but sex.

  Welcome, fellow, to the monkey house at the zoo—female monkeys always in heat. Watch the show. Oh hell, probably other—other races?—couldn't care less. Did he get any charge out of watching a couple of dogs in the street, or a couple of pigeons courting on the windowsill? Dane turned his eyes away from the all-too-realistic spectacle of Rianna and Roxon. No one else seemed to be paying the faintest attention, even among the humans.

  Let's hope Rianna's giving him a full run-down on the plan—and that he likes the idea. Because, without it, I'm not going to know where to begin. Aratak and I couldn't do much, alone. And, damn it, I've got plenty on my mind—like an escape attempt—without worrying about somebody else's sex life!

  As the thought of the escape crossed his mind again he remembered, with some unease, that he had been afraid to break this to Dallith. Now, it seemed, she knew—or did she? It was hard to tell whether she read his thoughts, or only mirrored his emotions. Now, as if mirroring his own deep disquiet, her small slender fingers groped for his and clung to them. Her hand felt cold. Dane squeezed it, hard, trying to keep calm and reassuring.

  He had always thought of himself as an adventurer. But a solitary one. He knew his own limits, his abilities, what he could trust himself to accomplish and what he couldn't do. He had been accused, once, of taking risks, and had denied it firmly. "I do dangerous things, sure," he'd said, "but unless I get struck by lightning—and that could happen when I'm home in bed—I know so well what I can and can't do that by the time I decide to do it, it isn't taking a risk anymore."

  But that was only true when he was relying on his own known abilities. Now he must put all his faith in strangers, some of them not even human. Aratak had a reassuring strength and solidity, and Rianna's bravery and resourcefulness had given him some confidence. But the others? They were all unknown quantities, and the habit of being self-reliant didn't help you at all when it was a question of doing dangerous things with other people. Rather the reverse.

  He let go of Dallith's hand, knowing that as she sensed his fear her own would grow, and said, "We'll talk about this later. I want to be sure what I think."

  As usual, she did not protest, or challenge him, but accepted his mood quietly as if it were her own, and went away to her own bunk. Rianna and Roxon had moved apart now, and Dane wondered what she had said to him, what he had replied. It would be dangerous to go and ask. Of course he could also pretend to be overcome by a lustful mood—he dropped that line of thought, fast. It led nowhere, and could provide a hell of a lot of complications he didn't need. Hadn't Dallith asked, Why does it matter to you?

  He couldn't answer that one, and didn't want to try.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rianna did not approach him until the next meal-period, when as they were taking up their trays she sorted his out for him and said, in an undertone, "Roxon agrees. He cannot pilot this ship alone, but he can handle the communication equipment and the Navigation Central will help him, of course. He will speak to another, in the next cell, who is known to him. You can
trust him; he is a good judge of men. He was surprised that it was you who made this plan, but that is his prejudice, and he admits it."

  "Damn nice of him," Dane said, a little grumpily. He realized it was unworthy of him. He'd known he couldn't do it all himself. He ought to be grateful that Roxon was willing to take over.

  She did not stay near him for more than a moment then—he felt she was being cautious now about the appearance of conspiring—but some time later, as she passed him, she murmured, "Put your arms around me, try to hold me a minute—Dane, have you told Dallith anything yet? I saw you talking together but I didn't have a chance to ask her."

  Dane complied. She felt soft and strong in his arms, rounded and feminine, yet firm-muscled and far from passive. He said, "No, I haven't. I was a little afraid to. Anyway, we got off the subject, she was explaining some things to me about—er—Galactic customs and the way the Mekhars—that is, the way all proto-felines—think of us humans."

  Is she expecting me to pretend to make love to her?

  As if she had caught the thought, Rianna firmly freed herself from his arms and pulled away. She said in an undertone, "Tell her, as quickly as you can. Remember, she's an empath. If you're too indecisive, she'll pick that up from you, and the Mekhars might have enough sense to watch her—to see whether they ought to be suspicious of us. It also might be—I don't know all that much about empaths, but it could be possible—that she could tune in on the Mekhars and find out how they're reacting to us; when they're off guard, how near we are to where they're taking us, and so on."

  "That would be almost too good to be true."

  "It would. I've never trusted psi talents, anyhow. But we can't afford to waste any chances, however small," Rianna said. "However small. So you talk to Dallith. And soon."

  Dane knew she was right, and he hardened himself to awareness of what he must do. But what if this plunged her, again, into the suicidal fear and hopelessness? What then?

  The routine of the slave quarters was familiar to him, now, and he waited on it. About an hour (he estimated, having no timepiece) after the final meal of each "day," the long corridor of cages was darkened, except for dimly glowing night-lights in the long corridors between, and small pale marks at the doors of the toilet areas. Dane went to the bunk now generally regarded as his at the appointed time. How quickly, he thought, we grow used to almost anything! Already one bunk here is "mine" and I am accustomed to getting into it at a specific and regular time. Are all sapient species such creatures of habit, or is it only us humans—or proto-simians?

  He gave the cell an hour to settle down and for his cell-mates to sleep. Above him, an unknown man, dark-skinned and flat-faced, snuffled and cried out in uneasy dreams. Aratak, in the bunk next to his, made odd snoring noises, and as Dane let himself quietly down from his bunk he noticed that the lizard-man was glowing faintly all over in the darkness. At the far end, surrounded by empty bunks on either side, the long loose-jointed spidery creature hunched, his eyes huge and red and reflecting light; the eyes swiveled to follow Dane, and Dane found himself cringing... was it a hungry look? Would the Mekhars, if it came to that, cage a cannibalistic species with its natural prey?

  Dallith lay in the lower bunk, her face turned away as he had first seen her lying her hair scattered and loose. She was sleeping deeply, and when Dane lowered himself gently beside Dallith, to sit on the edge of her bunk, she did not at once waken but made a soft, accepting movement and murmured in her sleep, a drowsy and peaceful sound.

  She knew him, even in sleep, and there was no fear now in her.... A wave of tenderness went over him; he touched his lips to the back of her cool hand, and she woke and smiled in the dimness. She looked so peaceful that for a moment he forbore to disturb her. She seemed unsurprised and did not question his presence. Putting off what he must say, Dane asked her, for the first time, "What is your world like, Dallith?"

  "How can I answer you, Marsh?" Her voice was only a whisper, accurately tuned to his ear. "It is my home. Can you say anything of your home world, except that it is beautiful? My people rarely leave our world—and almost never of our free will—and so we have no way to compare it with others, except from what we have read. I think it must be the same with you."

  A spasm of homesickness, so violent that it was pure pain, passed through Dane Marsh. Never to see Hawaii again, or the great arching span of the Golden Gate Bridge, or the skyline of New York with its thrusting towers, or the blossom of a rhododendron in spring....

  Her hands pressed his gently. She said, "I did not mean to make you sad. Dane, why did you come here? You are more than welcome, but I know enough about the kind of person you are to know why you did not come. You have something to say to me?"

  He nodded silently, and carefully stretched himself out along the edge of her bunk. He told himself that the Mekhar guards passed through the hall once or twice during a night and if they saw him there they would think—what they always thought, damn them. And why not? He told her, in muffled tones with his mouth close to her ear, about the plans for escape. She heard him out in silence, tensing only slightly when he told her that the Mekhars might very well kill some of them, but she made no outcry. At last she said, "I knew it must be something like this. I have seen you and Aratak together, but I was not sure exactly what. But if it is physical force you want, I am probably not strong enough to disarm a Mekhar. What can I do?"

  Her voice was so calm that he asked, "Aren't you afraid? I thought you'd panic."

  "Why? I faced the worst when they tore me from my home and my people. Now there is nothing worse to fear. Tell me what I can do for you."

  "I don't know anything much about empaths," Dane said. He remembered Rianna's words, I've never trusted psi talents.... "But perhaps you can find out for us how long we have. Are the Mekhars getting ready to land us already? Maybe you can find out what defenses we may have to face. That sort of thing."

  A spasm of disgust passed over her face. "I don't know. I have never tried—to read the minds or emotions of another race. They are so fierce—but I will try. Don't expect too much, but I will try."

  "That's all I ask," he said. He stirred as if to return to his own place, but Dallith's arms tightened around him. "No. No. Alone, I'm afraid again. Stay close to me—"

  He said, wryly, "You put a considerable strain on human nature, Dallith." But he did not move to go, and after a time, stretched out close to the girl, he fell asleep there, dropping from wakefulness into strange blurring dreams of lions, of curious colors and ambushes lurking behind strange ruined walls, starting awake again to hear Dallith whimpering with fear and protest in unquiet dreams, dropping again into the restless dreams of hunter and hunted, of ambush and fear and the smells of blood and death.

  A day or two later, Dallith joined him, Rianna, Roxon, and Aratak at a mealtime, as the Mekhar moved out of sight down the corridor with the food-cart, and said in an undertone, "We must be quick. We must make our plans quickly. They are hard to read"—her face twisted strangely and she clenched her hands—"and it is hard not to share their—their arrogance. I was afraid—afraid of becoming entangled in their ideas. But we must be very quick."

  Aratak asked gently, "Why, child?"

  "Because they are going to take us somewhere, unless"—again the look of strain—"unless something happens—I don't know exactly what, but they are expecting something and will be disappointed—oh, I don't know," she burst out, twisting her slim hands and biting her lip. "I don't know, I don't know! I'm afraid to come close enough to know—"

  Dane looked at her in deep disquiet. It's as if they wanted us to attack them. But that's ridiculous.

  He asked Roxon, "Has the word been passed along? How many can we trust to join us? We could manage with a dozen, I expect, if we're very well coordinated. But it would help to have more."

  Roxon said, "The five of us here. Three in the next cell. They tell me that in the area beyond, there are four or five who will join us. After that, it is all a g
uess. But I am sure we will have enough—and when others see that it is a well-planned, concerted action, they are sure to join."

  Rianna asked, "What about the tangler fields?"

  "Good point," Aratak said. "The guards wear those belts with their nerve-guns. I think there is a control in the belts which makes them able to move inside a tangler field. After we disarm the guards, we must get their belts. Two or three of the strongest of us, physically, must be ready to put them on, until someone can get to the bridge area and cut out the tangler controls. Roxon, can you do that?"

  "I'm not sure," Roxon said, "but I can try."

  Marsh said, "Roxon mustn't be risked. He knows how to pilot a ship. Let me take any risks that have to be taken. That sort of risk, anyway." He wished the revolt were today. Now the plans were made, further delay would only let them sit around, worrying, getting nervous. Also, at any moment the Mekhar ship might stop somewhere and take on a new load of slaves who might be dumped in among them, new ones still stunned by sudden captivity, to go mad or impede their plans for escape. He said, "The sooner the better. Let's make it next mealtime, now we all know what we're going to do."

  He found it hard to swallow; but as he would have put down the rest of his uneaten food, Rianna looked across the circle at him. She said, low and tense, "Finish up, everybody. We have to act exactly as usual, or they'll know something's going on."

  The interval till the next meal-period seemed to crawl past. Dallith sought Marsh and sat beside him, holding his hand. Roxon went to the bars separating them from the next cage area, and talked in an undertone to his colleague there. Rianna, disregarding her own directive, prowled nervously until Dallith gave her an angry stare, when she went to her bunk and lay there, pretending to sleep. Only Aratak seemed calm, seated with his huge legs crossed, his closed gill-slits vibrating faintly and glowing blue. But Marsh knew that this was only an outward appearance; he could not tell whether Aratak was as calm as he looked, meditating further on the wisdom of his eternal Divine Egg, or whether the impassiveness of his nonhuman face was due to its form and configuration and inwardly Aratak was as restless, as tightly clamped against revealing anything, as Rianna herself.