Four in the Way

by Jeff Deischer

  “Some other day, perhaps,” answered Indri, “but not right now. We have to worry about getting off this planet alive first.”

  As the trio hurried to the opening they had entered the wreck through, Rastheln’iq said, “By the way, this is not a survey scout ship. It is a Templar courier disguised as a scout vessel.”

  “No wonder it seemed familiar,” said Noomi.

  As intrigued as he was by this idea, Indri said, “We can’t worry about that now.”

  “I agree,” added Rastheln’iq. “And the day is not yet lost.”

  “What does that mean?” queried Noomi Bloodgood.

  “Merely that the future cannot always be predicted.”

  “Oookay. Indri?”

  “Prognostication is not one of the Seven Arts that I am proficient in,” the Delphite priest answered.

  “Swell,” the Tatar muttered as she followed the two males. Finally, they reached the rent through which they had entered the wreck. “The coast looks clear,” she said, not spying any of the intruders with her cat-like eyes which possessed triangular pupils. “At least we won’t have to worry about being beamed.”

  A clear path to the shuttle existed, it having landed in the wake of the crashed Templar courier. The trio started the short journey. When they had reached almost the mathematical midway point, three of the intruders appeared from the depths of the green jungle: The lemon-headed man, the Niall and the Hi-G male.

  “If I know my ambushes, the others will be,” Noomi said as she glanced over her shoulder, “behind us. Right.” Her suspicion was confirmed by the presence of the big, furry thing and the feathery-headed female.

  “I do not recommend fleeing into the jungle,” said Rastheln’iq as he pressed forward. “They could disable our ship and strand us here to die – assuming that the Vishnu has not already been disabled or destroyed.”

  “That seems a fair assumption,” Indri said as he charged forward.

  “If Tully didn’t desert us,” Noomi snarled, guarding their rear. “Damn’ coward!

  “Rattlesnake, take my dagger.”

  “I would not know what to do with it,” returned the Vir. “And I am not entirely defenseless.” Reaching into one of the chances of his multi-pocketed vest, he withdrew a small device that the Tatar did not recognize. She watched him throw it carelessly in the direction of the two behind the trio. It exploded in mid air in a plume of thick, inky liquid that fell upon the two intruders like a hard rain. Contact with the substance brought yowls from both the furry giant and the thin, long-legged woman.

  Impressed, Noomi ran to catch up to her comrades. “Got another one of those?” she asked Rastheln’iq.

  “No,” he answered. “I am not a walking arsenal. I carry a few items I think might come in handy. I am not equipped for war.”

  Noomi sped ahead to join Indri as he threw himself at the trio of intruders standing between them and their ship.

  The Niall lashed out with a talon, missing the Delph. The bird-like male exclaimed something in a surprised tone. He had moved quite quickly, and was not accustomed to missing his target.

  Indri flung an open hand at the creature’s beak-like proboscis. It landed soundly. The Niall staggered back, momentarily stunned. The Delphite priest did not wait to see what effect his blow had. His leg swept out, catching the backwards-looking lower limb of the bird-like being. It crashed to the ground. He moved in for the kill.

  The Niall sprang to his feet in a thoroughly ungraceful but effective manner. He hopped at Indri, his legs flailing. Small sharp spurs jutted from his heels – the equivalent of a cat’s dewclaw. Taken by surprise, Indri fell victim to one as it sliced his gray flesh.

  Seeing that not much gray-black blood came forth, the Delph ignored it and shot out a hand. The Niall countered it with a leg that Indri brushed aside – his blow was a feint – and threw his own foot up. It caught the bird-creature squarely in the torso. The Delphite priest heard hollow bones crunch as the Niall fell back.

  On the ground, he gasped for breath. Indri moved closer, warily, but the consciousness if not the life was leaving the Niall. Kneeling beside the bird creature, the Delphite priest took its arms and crossed them over its heart.

  “Wh-what …,” he chirped.

  “Pai-ti, the martial art of the Delph,” explained Indri softly as he watched the Niall die.

  Sparks flew as Noomi scraped the edge of her dagger against the burnished skin of the heavy gravity fellow. This probably meant his flesh possessed a significant mineral content, which would make injuring him even more difficult. The Tatar danced away when he reached for her, for once she was in his grasp, he could squeeze her into a bloody pulp.

  The Hi-G man was quite quick on his feet. This would have surprised most sentients but not Noomi: Normally, a large bulk indicates slowness, but in the lesser gravity of a world such as this, heavy gravity beings moved sprightly, for their mass possessed a mere fraction of its natural weight. He lunged at Noomi, almost had one hand about her slim ankle when she wriggled free before the vise-like appendage closed.

  The Tatar sprang away. She knew better than to play games with such a dangerous opponent. The Hi-G male was probably the most lethal of the five, lacking beamers. Noomi led him into the jungle. There, her agility would be more than a match for his might, no matter how fast he was. Returning her dagger to its sheath, she shinnied up a tree and watched the big man follow her into the dense green brush. “Over here,” she called.

  With a low growl, the Hi-G fellow launched himself at the tree. It shuddered when he struck it. Noomi, high up in the branches, was jostled, but clinging to the limb with the claws on her hands and feet, was in no danger of falling. Neither was the tree in danger of being knocked down. She had chosen it carefully.

  After two more impacts, the Hi-G man peered up into the branches. Seeing Noomi, he muttered something in a guttural language that she did not understand. She watched as he rummaged around through the broad green leaves low to the ground.

  When one of his hands emerged with a stone, she exclaimed, “Yikes!”

  He threw the rock at her. It whizzed by her, closer than she would have liked. When he bent to locate another stone, Noomi leaped to another tree and disappeared into the green.

  “Both our sides stand to lose in this battle,” Rastheln’iq said to the lemon-headed being, who appeared to be the leader of the intruders.

  “Or one stands to gain while the other loses,” countered the being. From one black leather boot, he withdrew a long metal stiletto. “My name is Threstle Kiwiness. Prepare to die.”

  The lemon-headed fellow came forward, jabbing at Rastheln’iq with the slim blade. Expecting the attack, the Vir backed away. He saw that Threstle Kiwiness knew what he was doing – using the little blade to stab rather than slash. The plant man had no defense. He retreated, the lemon-skinned man in pursuit.

  Rastheln’iq ran in a circular route, in order to avoid the two he had maimed with his chemical bomb. He did not know the pain tolerance of either of his victims, and they might be able to retaliate sooner than expected. Unfortunately, this gave Threstle Kiwiness opportunities to stab the Vir – which he did.

  Yellow ichor spewed out from the second wound – Rastheln’iq was leaking his life fluid. He stumbled but kept running. Though the blade was slim, it could puncture vital areas of his anatomy as well as a bigger one.

  Threstle Kiwiness, toying with the wounded Viridian scientist, struck again, this time in a leisurely fashion. Rastheln’iq was slowing, and unable to avoid the blows of his enemy. He fell, and struggled to get up.

  Standing over him, the lemon-headed man raised his stiletto for the kill.

  “Wait,” said Rastheln’iq, reaching into a pocket. “I have something worth my life.”

  “Then I shall take it from your corpse.”

  “It is unlikely you will be able to open the lock,” replied the Vir. “It is quite valuable, and therefore, quite secure.”

  Threstle Kiwine
ss squinted at the wounded plant man. “Very well. But cautiously.”

  Rastheln’iq did as he was instructed, slowly removing a small oblong thing of metal from a pocket. It indeed looked valuable to the lemony fellow. “What is it?” he inquired.

  “You understand that I am a plant?” the Vir asked.

  Threstle Kiwiness nodded. That much he had gleaned.

  “I call this insect repellent,” Rastheln’iq said as he released a cloud of gas designed to irritate the cells of every type of animal life.

  Choking, Threstle Kiwiness backed away. Through the mist, the Viridian scientist saw him suddenly go limp and fall to the ground. This puzzled Rastheln’iq, because his creation was not supposed to kill – only repel. Perhaps there was something unique about the lemon-headed fellow’s bio-chemistry. He was thinking about re-formulizing the mist when another figure loomed as the cloud dissipated.

  He recognized the voice that said, “Are you all right, Rattlesnake?”

  Stooping, Noomi Bloodgood hauled the Vir to his feet. Seeing his wounds, she asked, “Are you going to make it? We’ll be back to the Vishnu in a few minutes.”

  “I will recover. I am a plant. The fool attacked me as though I were meat. I do not have the same internal organs to injure as you,” Rastheln’iq said as the Tatar hoisted him onto her shoulders and made her way toward the shuttle. They found Indri near the entrance.

  Taking Rastheln’iq from Noomi, he slammed shut the door of the shuttle while she hurried to the cockpit. “They’re not going to get through berzelium with knives and claws!” she laughed.

  “No,” said Rastheln’iq, now on his own two feet. “But we do not know what their vessel is capable of. If the Vishnu still exits, we will be safer there.”

  “I know, I know,” the Tatar girl returned sourly. Dropping into the pilot’s seat, she began preparations for take off. Silence greeted her efforts. “We have a problem. The engine core is dead. Zero, zip, nada. There’s not an iota of energy left in it. We’re not going anywhere in this thing.”

  “I would say that this is impossible, except that it has happened,” the Viridian scientist said as he limped into the cockpit and studied the gauges. Not even these were functioning. The shuttle appeared to have no power at all.

  “It must be the same cause that drained our weapons,” Indri said tightly.

  “Well, now we know what Rattlesnake’s energy anomaly does!” Noomi Bloodgood declared in a sour tone.

  After the Tatar had tried the mozna radio and found it also inoperable, Indri Mindsinger said to his erstwhile patient, “Our options have become rather limited, wouldn’t you say, Wormwood?”

  “An obvious conclusion, yes,” agreed the plant man.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Noomi.

  “Considering that our ship being bereft of power is a new development, I have no plan,” said Rastheln’iq. “We seem to have time enough for me to formulate one.”

  “I’d say our immediate concern is dealing with the remaining three,” said Indri. “They can’t be happy we killed two of their colleagues, self defense or not.”

  “They get larger shares now,” Noomi pointed out. The observation was met with silence. Rastheln’iq seemed to be thinking while Indri ignored it as he moved to the pressure hatch of the shuttle, and cracked it open.

  Seeing no one, Indri moved around to the front of the craft. From there, he spied the trio of survivors at the periphery of the clearing. The furry giant and the feathery-haired female had recovered from whatever Rastheln’iq had used on them. The dark fur of the big creature was clumped together in dark patches, while the woman’s flesh was red and splotchy in places, burned by the caustic substance.

  The Delph wondered for a moment what it had been intended for, since the Viridian scientist did not go about armed.

  The burnished-skinned heavy gravity sentient had dragged the corpse of Threstle Kiwiness into the brush. The Niall’s body lay untouched. Indri speculated that this was because the bird-like creature was unarmed, using only his own natural body weaponry, while the other might have any number of things hidden on his person.

  “You’ll find your craft won’t fly,” the Delphite priest called out. This was met by silence.

  “If we could leave, we would,” Indri continued. “Therefore it should be obvious that we cannot. Neither can you. We will need to work together and pool our resources to escape this moon.”

  “You won’d be gedding offa this moon,” the Hi-G’er shouted back. His voice was a booming bass. “Alive.”

  “That settles that,” the Delph murmured as he entered the shuttle, closing the hatch behind him. Returning to the cockpit, he heard Rastheln’iq’s voice: “It is imperative that we seize control of their ship immediately.”

  “Why?” asked Noomi.

  “It has been here a considerably less span of time that our shuttle has,” explained the plant man. “It may still possess enough power for liftoff. All we need to do is make it into orbit.”

  “Assuming the Vishnu is still there.”

  “Yes,” nodded the Vir.

  “They don’t wish to parley,” announced Indri. “I heard what you said. How do you propose we implement your idea?”

  “That heavy G skivver is no pushover,” announced the Tatar. “The female doesn’t look like much without a beamer, and I can probably take the furball but we still have to deal with the big guy.”

  “Pai-ti, the Delphite martial art, has ways to deal with larger opponents,” put in Indri Mindsinger. “But a heavy gravity being is largely immune to those ways. His mass is simply too great.”

  “Between the contents of this shuttle and those of my vest,” said Rastheln’iq, “I believe I can provide a suitable distraction.”

  “What do you have in mind, Rattlesnake?” Noomi Bloodgood grinned.

  Not many minutes later, the three latecomers to the moon of Yuncan observed a small writhing column of very black smoke billowing up out of the shuttle. Knowing no ranged attack awaited them, they moved closer to investigate.

  “They won’t last long with all that smoke in their ship,” said the feathery-haired woman. “If that shuttle is really without power, their air replenisher isn’t working.”

  The furry giant growled something.

  “Yes, but why else wouldn’t they take off?” the female countered.

  “Id doesn’d madder, Meru,” evinced the Hi-G’er named Bronk. “We owe them for Threstle and Birdie.”

  “They must have burned something out trying to jury-rig the engine.”

  The heavy gravity being grunted his pleasure at the thought. “Now we finish them.”

  The furry giant growled his agreement as the trio approached cautiously, expecting an ambush.

  While the two males circled either end of the shuttle, the feathery-haired female named Meru displayed remarkable agility by leaping onto the top of the ship in a single jump, a distance of more than fifteen feet. Finding no hidden danger, she moved toward the source of the smoke – the pressure hatch. It was pouring from the portal, which was slightly open, possibly in an effort to vent the noxious fumes. She could smell them from her position.

  It all looked like what it seemed to be, but Meru waited for her comrades to arrive, just in case.

  Bronk yanked the hatch door open, unafraid of what might lie inside. His condensed musculature was resistant to heat to some degree, so he did not fear flames. The hatch was cool enough to his touch to indicate that no raging inferno awaited him on the other side of the door.

  The hatch to the airlock opened to disclose a small chemical fire, producing more smoke than heat. The inner door was still sealed shut.

  It was all a trick.

  Running for the intruders’ ship, Noomi, Indri and Rastheln’iq did not see their three enemies discover their ruse. But the Delphite priest sensed it. “Wait a moment,” he said. “I have an idea.”

  The Viridian scientist welcomed the respite, for he was wounded, even if not grav
ely so. He slumped against the trunk of a large tree. Noomi kept an eye on him; if she had to carry him, she could. He only had the mass of a large human child or adult female.

  A few moments later, Indri announced, “Let us be on our way.”

  “What about your idea?” the Tatar asked, pulling Rastheln’iq to his feet.

  “I made them think we are going to the shipwreck,” the Delphite priest smiled.

  Noomi could not suppress a laugh. “That’s genius! We should have no trouble now.”

  They did not.

  The three escaped convicts found the Lightrunner well named, for it possessed a small Overdrive engine.

  They also found the transport well stocked when it came to food and drink – and weapons, only the non-powered type being of any use now, of course. In addition to the usual necessities, the ship’s passenger cabin held many comfortable seats and a lounge with galley, as well as a small area to treat the wounded. The Lightrunner was an expeditionary vessel. But none of the three took the time to avail themselves of the ship’s bounty. They had more pressing matters on their minds.

  Dropping into the pilot’s seat, Noomi checked the gauges – they were all dead. Even with the engine off, the power plant should have been bursting with energy, but it was dead, its carolinium core drained.

  “Dead,” the Tatar announced.

  “Not an entirely unexpected status,” Rastheln’iq said without emotion.

  “We had to try,” Indri put in. “Don’t blame yourself, Wormwood.”

  “I do not.”

  “Well, at least we have enough food to last us awhile,” Noomi said, trying to brighten the mood inside the ship.

  It didn’t work.

  But the trio did not have long to ponder their predicament, for the three surviving owners of the Lightrunner soon returned to their craft just as darkness was falling.