Star Hunters

by Clayton, Jo;

  Mara scowled. “No,” she said and looked for support to S’kiliza. S’kiliza sat up and shook her head. “We come,” she said.

  “It’s the Sniffer in the barn.”

  “And wildings.” Mara smiled fiercely. “I go.”

  “No!” Kitosime thrust out a hand. “Mara.…”

  “No. What you do, mama ’Tosime, I do.” She lifted her chin and marched out of the kitchen. Kitosime snatched her broochpin from S’kiliza and ran after her, jabbing the pin through the rollknot as she ran.

  Cheo growled, swept the others with angry eyes, then ran out with them following on his heels.

  When Mara slipped into the barn, Sniffer was squatting beside the abandoned drum, eyes fixed on the dazed wildings. “Fa-kichwa say you come,” she gasped out. “Wildings. In the garden. He got, but need help.” She stood panting, a slender immature figure in her simple dresscloth, obviously excited. One glance at the wildings reassured Sniffer. They weren’t going anywhere. He limped over to Mara, his short leg dragging badly.

  “Where?” he shrilled.

  “Follow.” She ran out.

  When he plunged through the door, he tripped over S’kiliza crouched in front of the opening. Then the boys were on him. The knives flashed and he was quickly as dead as the Fa-kichwa. Kitosime came out of the shadows projecting CALM/QUIET/PEACE to damp the excitement, rage and terror surging through the children. She went from one to the other, stroking them, touching, patting, soothing. She was hating this. More and more she saw how the killing was hurting the children. Especially the older boys. She hugged Amea a long time, loving him, approving him, soothing the violent emotions that were tearing him apart, then did the same for Cheo.

  When the children were finally calmed, she led them into the barn.

  The wildings had begun to recover from their terror trance. They stopped working at the neck rope when they sensed the newcomers, stiffening again with fear.

  Kitosime stopped. “Cheo,” she whispered. “Amea. Cut off that rope. Wame, the rest of you. Calm them. Don’t let them run out of here in panic. Though the hounds are tied up in the courtyard, there are two Fa-men left out there.” She nodded toward the back of the barn.

  With the resilience of youth, the boys grinned as they ran to free the wildings. The bloody knives cut the rope from their necks. Once free, the boys fluttered about in the swift fluid communing of the wildings.

  Kitosime leaned against one of the supports. Two more Fa-men. Do we have to kill them too? These are children, they shouldn’t have to kill men. She swung around against the wood, ignoring the prick of splinters stabbing into her skin. She knew the other two Fa-men had to die. We live or they live, she thought. I wish.… She touched the eyestones. Manoreh, Manoreh, I begin to see why you couldn’t bear to stay here. But I wish you were here now. If the boys have to kill again.…

  She moved back to the children. The new wildings were seated in a tight half circle. They were five boys, blood drying on their dirty hides. They stared at her, still wary of adults.

  “Cheo, will they stay? They can go if they are careful, do they know that?”

  “They know. Know too it better to stay. We kill Fa-men and they safe. Fa-men run them long time. They have three girls with them, but make girls go off. This one.…” Cheo pointed to a painfully thin boy with great luminous eyes. “He very strong FEELER. He say girls, they come after, are close.” Cheo grinned. “He surprised that we talk.” His pride swelled.

  With an amused snort, Kitosime pinched his ear. “Should have named you Big-man-who-talks-too-much,” she murmured. Then she frowned at the wildings, wondering what to do with them. “We need some way to pull the other Fa-men in here. One at a time.”

  S’kiliza tugged at her arm. “My turn,” she said. “I tell one that Fa-kichwa want him in here. Just like Mara. When he come in.…” She jerked her hand up and down.

  While Kitosime was trying to decide what had to be done, she heard a keening whine that passed over the barn and swooped down until it sounded as if it was right outside. She wheeled to face the door, vibrating to a touch that was unbelievably familiar, unbelievably welcome.

  Manoreh stood in the door, Faiseh behind him. Then he stepped inside, smiling at her.

  When the night turned bright as day, Umeme nearly dropped the waterskin he and Havih had just filled at the trough in the stable’s corral. He grabbed Havih and dropped flat, then crawled for the inky shadow at the end of the stable. The two boys pressed themselves against the wall and peered at the fading flare hanging above the eastern mountain peaks.

  Havih nudged Umeme. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t know.” Umeme frowned thoughtfully. “Here.” He thrust the waterskin at Havih. “Take this up into the loft and make sure the rest keep quiet. I’m going on the roof to take a look.”

  He waited until Havih had slipped around the corner, then began climbing the extended edges of the wall. As he flipped onto the roof, he saw two Chwerevamen trot past, heading for the nearest energy gun. He frowned, wondered if that might cause problems for him and the other boys. After a minute he began working his way along the roof then up the shingles to the peak. At the top he looked around.

  The last traces of the flare were washed into a faint cloud behind the mountains. He blinked, vaguely disturbed. There was a calm in the air that bothered him until he noticed the absence of the shrill, intermittent hum from the psi-screen. He examined the screen more closely. No more pulsing flickers. Then he strained toward the hare ring. For a moment he saw no change, then a hare staggered and collapsed against another already stretched out stiff on the ground. They’re dead, he thought. The Hunters did it. They’re dead.

  He heard a growing murmur as the streets began to fill. Beneath him Chwereva compound was stirring. There were men now at each of the four guns. Hastily he slid down the roof, flipped over the edge, and half fell down the side of the stable to the ground. He hesitated in the shadow as several Chwerevamen trotted past, heading for the front gate, then he darted around the corner and through the small side door.

  In the loft he found the boys steaming with curiosity. The concentrated emotion almost flattened him. “Hey,” he hissed. “Let me breathe.” He climbed onto a mound of hay. “Hares are dead. Or almost,” he said. As they leaped up, mouths open, he glared at them. “Quiet! We aren’t out of this yet. We’re all that’s left of the Tembeat. You want to see the Director’s death wasted. Or the teachers’?” When they calmed down, he said, “Havih, what’s our first goal?”

  “Sneak over the wall, get out of the city, steal a boat.” Havih grinned, and bowed to them all.

  “Anrah, what’s next?”

  “We sail to the coast, then out to the islands. We pick an island where not too many people are.”

  “Ketreh?”

  “Find a place with water and maybe a house, or build a house. Start the Tembeat again.”

  Umeme could feel their excitement rising. He projected CALM/ASSURANCE as best he could and when they quieted, said, “All right. Get your stuff. Havih, take care of the ropes. Ketreh, help him. We got to get out of here now. Kiwanji’s waking up. Especially we got to get over the wall fast and quiet. Don’t want the Chwerevamen to get after us with those guns. We go over near where the cistern is. Some shadow there. Got it? Good. Five minutes. Let’s go.”

  The line of boys slipped rapidly down the doubled rope, jerked it loose, then drifted through the clots of men, unnoticed in the growing confusion. They wound quickly through the streets, working toward the western side of the city where the river curved past.

  A shout broke through the confused noise of the streets. At first it was a jumble of sound, then men came running into the center of the city yelling excitedly, “The hares. The hares are dead. The hares are dead! THE HARES ARE DEAD!”

  The boys leaped over the low wall and ran for the river, moving along the riverside piers, scanning the boats tied up there. Most were the great flat-bottomed barges that had brought
the clans here from the holdings, but here and there they saw smaller boats, ranging from one-man rowboats to more elaborate day-sailers. Umeme stopped beside a neat eight-meter craft. “This is good,” he said. “Climb in. Havih, you pick out two to help and get the sail set. I’ll take the tiller for the first bit. The rest of you, haul your gear in and get yourselves stowed.” He stepped over the side quickly and sat beside the tiller, while the boys scurried.

  They had the sail up in a few minutes. The boat was a little crowded with the fifteen boys and all their gear, but they paid no attention to discomfort, laughing and joking, released at last from their enforced silence. Umeme smiled, feeling the same release from tension, but being in charge, he couldn’t let down too much. Ketreh flopped down beside him, the boom sheet in one hand. “We’re ready,” he said.

  “Wait a minute.” Havih jumped onto the rough dock and darted up the slope. He came back almost immediately, a hare body dangling from his hand. “Wanted to see what killed ’em,” he gasped. He tumbled into the boat, rocking it precariously, then crawled back to Umeme.

  Umeme grunted. “Time to go. Qareh, get the bow line. Lerzu, the one by your elbow. Ketreh, pay out that sheet a little so the sail can catch some air.”

  The boat eased out to the middle of the river; the sail filling, beginning to drive them along like a bird skimming over the water. In a few minutes Kiwanji vanished behind the bank and the trees. The massive kuumti trees of the river valley began to rise higher and higher until their wide branches left only a narrow space over the center of the Mungivir.

  Havih turned the hare over and over in his hands then touched the clotted fur around the eyes and nostrils. “Look.” He showed the hare’s head to Umeme. “Blood came out the nose and mouth, even out around the eyes. Something sure blew their brains.”

  “Hunters.” Umeme wrinkled his nose at the hare. “Get rid of that thing, huh?”

  Havih tossed the hare into the river and wiped his hands on his shorts. “How long to the coast, you think?”

  “Depends on wind. With a good breeze, two, three days; current alone, maybe five. According to Agoteh, the river’s good and deep the whole way, no shallows to worry about. So we got it made. Until we get to the coast, anyway. Agoteh said we got to watch out. People there are weird. And no laws or customs to keep them straight.” He frowned at the boys lounging along the boat in front of him. “Anyway, we got a few days of peace.”

  Faiseh was behind the dais that held the body of the watuk and the shattered egg. Two more bodies were sprawled beside him. He held one energy gun. A second lay by his knee. Across the great cavern watuk guards were crouched in the corridor arch. Several of their company were scattered on the metacrete outside the corridor. As Aleytys and Grey stepped from the lift, one of the guards leaned out and shot at Faiseh. The Ranger ducked behind the dais, then returned fire. Both shots missed and the two sides continued to watch each other closely.

  Grey shoved past Aleytys and ran to the dais, dropping behind it just in time to avoid a burst of energy from the arch. Faiseh grunted with satisfaction as the guard toppled slowly out onto the metacrete. He grinned at Grey. “Want to do that again? You’re a great decoy.”

  “Sorry. Any idea how many of them in there?”

  “I touch half a dozen. Could be a few more.” He glanced back at Aleytys crouched inside the lift. “We’re kind of stuck here. What about her? Can she do something? We got to get Manoreh out of the lab. If he’s still alive.”

  “He’s alive.” Grey tapped the spare energy gun. “If we keep their heads down, Lee can fetch him.” He took the gun and looked around one end of the dais. Faiseh wriggled about so he could cover the other end. Grey got comfortable, then called, “Get over here, Lee. Keep down and come fast.”

  When she reached them, two more guards were stretched out on the floor and she had a long singe on her back. Grey started to speak, but she held up a hand. “Give me a minute.” She grimaced. “Sore as hell.” She touched her seared buttocks. “Should keep my rear down.” She closed her eyes. Faiseh gasped as the charred flesh smoothed over. In a moment all trace of the burn wound was gone. She opened her eyes and smiled. “So. What now?”

  “Manoreh’s in the lab still. If we keep them pinned, think you can get him?”

  She measured the distance from the dais to the lab arch. “He’s unconscious,” she said slowly. Then she grinned at Grey. “Do a better job of keeping their heads down this time. I’m running out of juice.”

  “Only our best.” He lifted an eyebrow. Faiseh nodded. “We’re set, Lee. Go!”

  She was up and away, running in irregular spurts and arcs, the green dress flaring up about her thighs and swirling about them in a flow of emerald, her red hair swinging and dancing as she dipped and darted. Grey and Faiseh kept the guards occupied, and she reached the arch untouched, then vanished inside.

  The two men waited, snapping occasional bursts at the arch as guards grew curious or restless or tried to get off a shot. With two of them firing, more often than not, the guards tumbled out. Grey checked his meter. About a quarter charge. He edged his head around. “How much you got left?”

  “Not a hell of a lot. What’s holding her up?”

  Grey shook his head. “No idea. Look, there can’t be that many of them left.”

  “I touch two.”

  “So.” Grey put the energy gun on the floor and slid it across to Faiseh. “Keep them honest. I’m going in to see what the problem is.”

  “There were guards in the lab too.”

  Grey snapped his fingers. “I’m not disarmed, friend. Head up. I’m off.” He dashed from the dais, heard the soft whine of the gun, but made the lab with nothing more than a charred spot on the sleeve of his tunic.

  Manoreh was stretched out unconscious on a black-padded table. The straps that had secured him were dangling at its side. Aleytys bent over him, her hands flattened against his chest. His hands were closed around her wrists. Her face was frozen in shock. His body was arched slightly under her hands, the same shock was on his face.

  “Lee?” He touched her cheek. Her flesh was stone-hard. Cold. Her arm wouldn’t move. He tried to pry Manoreh’s fingers loose but the flesh seemed glued to Aleytys’s arm.

  He stepped back. Some complication of that link between them. Break the link. He looked down at his stunner fingers. Manoreh first. He slid his hand along Manoreh’s shoulder and worked it up under the metal helmet—badly discolored but still on the Ranger’s head. He jerked the helmet off and threw it across the room, then placed his fingers under the curve of the Ranger’s skull. He gave the watuk two jolts from the stunner, stood back and waited. Nothing seemed to happen. He touched Aleytys’s face. Still frozen. “Try again,” he muttered. “Now you.” He slipped his hand under her hair, stroked the curve of her neck. “Hope this works, love.” He activated the stunners twice again.

  For a moment the tableau held, then Aleytys’s stiff form melted. Grey caught her and lifted her away from the table. Leaving her stretched out against the wall, he searched among the dead and unconscious bodies in the bloody debris on the floor and found several energy guns. He checked the charges, grunted with satisfaction, then stripped a weapon belt from a guard’s body and strapped it on. He tucked all but one of the guns behind the belt, then moved to the arch. He waited until he got Faiseh’s attention, pointing along the wall toward the corridor’s arch. Then he slipped out and ran noiselessly along the wall. Before the last guard had time to react he was facing the gun in Grey’s hand. He walked out of the arch, resignation and fear blending in his face.

  Faiseh came toward them. “That’s all,” he said.

  Grey rubbed his nose. “You can tell if a man is lying?”

  “Most times. Why?”

  Grey turned to the guard. “How many more guards in this place?”

  The boy swallowed. He was much younger than the other guards. His silver-green skin dulled to a dirty olive. “Haribu.” His indigo eyes searched their face
s. “Not many. Don’t know for sure. Two or three working on a skimmer in the port. Up there.”

  When Faiseh nodded, Grey said, “Good enough.” He directed the shivering guard to the cage in the middle of the cavern. The guard crawled inside and stood holding the bars, watching forlornly as the Ranger and the Hunter went back through the lab arch.

  Faiseh was surprised to see the two unconscious figures. “What happened?”

  “The link. They were tied together. I had to stun both of them to pry them apart. Think you can carry him?”

  “Why not.” Faiseh crossed to the table.

  Grey knelt beside Aleytys. She was still out, would be out for a while yet. He lifted her onto his shoulder, then went quickly through the arch and trotted for the lift.

  With Aleytys huddled in one corner of the lift and Manoreh across from her, Grey shut the door and touched the sensor square that would take them to the Vryhh’s nest. “We’ve got one stop to make. To pick up Haribu.”

  “Ah!” Faiseh looked down at Aleytys. “Remarkable woman.”

  Grey smiled down at her. “Very.”

  The lift stopped. “Wait here. Be back in a minute.” He stepped through the doorway into the bedroom. The chair was empty. He crossed to the fresher, its door gaping open. Empty. He came back to the center of the room. “Damn,” he said mildly. “Damn.” Shaking his head, he went back to the lift.

  Faiseh questioned. “Haribu?”

  “Crawled under a rock somewhere. Let’s get out of here.”

  This time the lift opened into another cavern floored with metacrete. One end was open to the night air. Several skimmers were scattered about. Two men were bending over the engine of one of them. They looked up as the lift opened. Grey’s gun fired before they could move. They dropped without a word. Dead.