The Pet Plague

by Darrell Bain

  Like a striking rattler, clusters of biomanipulators shot out from both sides of the room, differentiating Jeannie and the miscreant instantly. Cadena's weapon was struck from his hand by one tentacle, and other constricting coils whipped around his body and swept him from his feet. He gagged and struggled as a coil tightened around his neck, cutting off his breath. His struggles caused the others entangling his body to tighten even further. Maddened with fear and rage, he ceased fighting only when he was totally unconscious.

  Jeannie drew in several long, lung-expanding breaths, trying to moderate the adrenalin surge which had left her shaken and weak. Finally regaining her calm, she stepped over and around the biomanipulators holding Cadena tight from both walls and recovered her clothing. She pulled it on, keeping an eye on the entangled man, even though she knew there was no chance he could escape. She went over to the computer alcove, intending to call Whitmire's office for help. She stopped as an idea struck her. Her lips parted at the audacity of the thought. She stepped back long enough to draw a glass of water to leaven her dry throat, then sat down to wait until Cadena recovered enough to talk. She saw the coils covering his body begin to relax slightly, even though they still held him tight. When she saw him open his eyes and blink, she spoke to him.

  “Now you will tell me what in hell you think you're up to, mister. Start talking. It better be good."

  “I was just kidding,” Cadena said in a raw voice. “Jamie gave me access here. Now let me go.” He tried to exude some bravado, but it was a weak attempt, completely unconvincing.

  Jeannie laughed. “I don't believe that for a minute. I saw you in Alvarez's office earlier this evening when you were supposed to be home with a headache. You're after something, and it has to be something to do with Jamie. You can either tell me, or I can call John Whitmire and let you tell him."

  Cadena's whole body slumped, as much as it was able to in the restrictive coils. There was no way he wanted the security chief to intervene. His only hope lay with the girl. “If I tell you, will you let me go? Just give me a chance to get away, that's all I ask.” The fear of exile caused him to begin shivering, like the girl he had killed so long ago, just before he snuffed out her life.

  Jeannie considered the best way to carry out her plan. She had no intention of letting the man go. She fully intended to call Whitmire and turn Cadena over to him, but not before she got her pound of flesh. “Start talking. If I like what I hear, I'll give you twelve hours grace to get to wherever you think you want to go. Don't try lying to me, though. Whitmire can be here in half an hour if I call him."

  Cadena began to talk, fear pressing at his mind. He told her only what he thought she already knew, but Jeannie wouldn't be satisfied. She wanted it all, now that she had a plan. She didn't let up on him until she had wormed out the complete story of his recruitment by Moon City, how he passed his information, and the nature of each stolen file. She took her time, knowing there was no way he could escape.

  As time passed, Cadena found the telling easier. He wanted to get it over with, and his mind was already skipping ahead to possible hiding places in the Enclave.

  Jeannie summed it up. “So, you've been passing on any information you think valuable to the Moon City people all these years. I don't know why you would have wanted to, but let that go. What I can't understand is why they would want anything from us? They sit up there safe and sound, not threatened at all, while we're down here holed up in the Enclaves."

  “I don't know for sure,” Cadena answered honestly. “I guess maybe they still depend on earth for some materials and products and use the information for planning and deciding which Enclaves to trade with. They were always after me to get them any kind of new technology that we were holding back in hopes of getting better deals with them."

  “And now they know that we're after something which might alter the balance, thanks to you. You are a despicable man."

  “You promised to let me go!” Canena's voice was shrill with apprehension.

  “If you believed that, you probably believe in fairies, too."

  Cadena began to plead incoherently until she shut him up with a threat of tightening his bonds. We withdrew into a sullen silence but continued to watch her. She instructed the defender to hold him captive with no time limit.

  “Where are you going? You can't just leave me here like this,” he pleaded.

  “Just hide and watch, buster."

  He tried one more gambit. “At least let me up long enough to go to the bathroom. I promise not to cause any trouble, but I've got to go."

  Jeannie thought of her narrow escape from rape and murder. “Piss in your pants, you bastard.” She turned on her heel and left.

  She caught the sled leading to her apartment and planned some more as she rode, wondering all the time if she was doing the right thing, and wondering even more if she could pull it off. Never mind. I'm going to try, she thought. If Candena's treachery had increased the danger to Jamie in any way, then she was determined to be there to share it. It was a romantic notion, of course, but then Jeannie was a romantic girl, and she was emboldened to try the gambit and see how Whitmire reacted.

  Whitmire took her call almost immediately, the image appearing to show him at his desk console. He looked tired, but spoke kindly. “Yes, Jeannie, what can I do for you?"

  “I've caught a spy,” she said, getting to the subject matter immediately.

  Whitmire furrowed his brows, wondering if he had heard her right. He had been expecting another inquiry about Jamie Da Cruz. Spies shouldn't even be in her lexicon. “A spy, you say? And you caught one? Child, am I hearing you right?"

  “You heard right Mr. Whitmire. He tried to kill me,” Jeannie reiterated.

  Concern crossed his face. “Are you hurt?"

  “No, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Look, let me tell you about it."

  “Perhaps we should go over the matter in person, if it can wait an hour or so.” He was much more aware of political intrigue than Jeannie or most other citizens were. There was competition and undercover operations occurring continuously between the Enclaves and space, and even between the individual Enclaves. If Jeannie had indeed uncovered some espionage, and in her words, ‘caught a spy', there might be need to keep the events discrete for the time being.

  “I guess it could wait for a little while if it has to, but please, not long."

  “Are you calling from home?” He asked, more for reassurance than need to know; he suspected she was, judging from the background displayed with her image, that of a simple one room apartment.

  “Yes, I'm home."

  “Then may I suggest you wait there and let me come to you? Give me the location, and I'll be there very shortly."

  Jeannie gave him her number and location, then waited in frustration for his arrival. She had been primed to negotiate when she called and wasn't sure she could go through with it in person. The waiting only made it worse.

  Whitmire greeted her warmly when she let him in. He looked around the room and saw no spy in sight, although he admitted to himself that she still looked just as distraught as when she had called. Her room was decorated in fresh pink and pale green pastels, with growing plants in every nook and cranny. He took the seat she offered and crossed his legs. “Now, Jeannie, begin at the start and let's see what we have."

  Jeannie told her story as well as she could, omitting only the name of the man and where he was being held. Whitmire noticed the omission, of course, but refrained from interrupting until she was finished. “Now, you say you have this man trussed up where he can't escape. Good. Tell me where he is and I'll send a security detachment to bring him in."

  Jeannie took a deep breath. “There is something I want, first. Before I hand him over, I want a promise from you.

  “And what might that be? There may be no time to spare, Jeannie. If Moon City is really onto the nature of our expedition they may try to reach the area before we do, somehow."

  “I want to be with
Jamie. I know you send floaters out to meet them at night. You could let me go on one.” She met his startled gaze with her lips drawn into a tight line.

  “Jeannie, you know nothing of the wilds, and this expedition is important, more so than you might guess."

  “Jamie doesn't know anything about the wilds, either, and he went."

  “True,” Whitmire countered, “but his presence was necessary, and yours isn't."

  “It is now, if you want to know anything else about the spy. I'm serious, Mr. Whitmire. If Jamie is in danger, I want to share it.” Her voice, in control until then, trembled with the last words. She felt the beginning of a sob trying to form and fought to hold it back.

  John Whitmire was a dedicated man, and a harsh one when circumstances dictated. He uncrossed his legs and stood up to pace, a narrow three steps in each direction, while he considered. He would have to send reinforcements to the expedition now, simply as a matter of expedience, but he couldn't see where one inexperienced girl would be that much of an additional problem. After all, the scientists were laboring under the same handicap. He suspected, rightly, that he could determine the whereabouts of Jeannie's captive fairly easily, but it might take a day or so if she remained as stubbornly silent as she was now. He stopped pacing and sat back down.

  “All right, Jeannie, I'll let you go. It may be a day or two, though. I'm going to have to send some reinforcements out before I can make room for you, and I won't risk telling the expedition anything about this other than by personal contact; the satellites might pick up the transmission. I'll have to have a courier go with the next floater out, then bring one of the rangers back for a briefing. If one space agent is involved, there may be others, and their pipeline normally runs through floater pilots. I don't dare even trust the courier; my own headquarters may be penetrated, but there are a few rangers I know I can trust. So give me a couple of days, OK?"

  Jeannie did cry then, from relief rather than any other emotion, but she soon calmed down. Then, under Whitmire's gentle urging, she filled in the rest of the story.

  “You will have to come with me us if we want to release Mr. Cadena without tearing up Jamie's defender. It would be a shame after the good job it did. You were very lucky, I hope you know that."

  “I guess so. I'm here, and a couple of hours ago I didn't know if I would be or not. If I couldn't have accessed the defender—"

  “You would very likely be dead, perhaps after some very unpleasant preliminaries. Let me use your terminal and we'll be on our way."

  Two security agents were waiting when they arrived at Jamie's apartment. She opened the door for them, but let them go in first, not quite trusting Cadena to still be trussed up. Seconds later, they beckoned her inside, then took custody of Cadena after she loosed the Bios. They hustled him away, head hung, thinking only of his bleak future.

  Whitmire turned to Jeannie. “It will be in the morning before I can get a floater out, and likely another day or so before I get the reinforcements sent in. I can let you go after that, if you are still so determined, but I insist you take the little training course that Jamie did. You can join him the day after. Report to the security building in the morning; I'll have it set up for you."

  “Thank you. I'll be there. Do you think the space people will really try to interfere with the expedition?"

  “Knowing how venal and covetous they are, it is a distinct possibility, but being prepared is half the battle. We can manage that now, thanks to you.” Whitmire smiled down at Jeannie's small, pretty face, thinking how vulnerable she looked. He hoped Jamie would treat her right.

  “Go home, now, and get a good night's sleep. I'll see you in the morning if I can.” Impulsively, he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, then cursed himself silently for being a sentimental old fool.

  Pet Plague (continued)

  * * *

  CHAPTER 16

  It was near noon before Whitmire could arrange for additional rangers and get them ready to go. There were few enough available on such short notice. That wasn't his main worry, however. He was treading a fine line by sending additional troops to join the original party. Too few might not be enough to meet the contingencies suggested by Cadena's revelations, and too many risked not only provoking the animals as they passed through their territory, but compounded the supply difficulties. Hunting for food was out of the question; nothing was more certain to arouse the enhanced animals than poaching on their food supply. While a large force could probably hold their own for a while, they could not be expected to hunt and fight and make any kind of speed toward their destination while doing so. He balanced the various factors in him mind and finally decided than an additional two dozen would be a suitable compromise. It was well that he got them off when he did; by the time they arrived, their help was sorely needed.

  * * * *

  Jamie heard the first alarm as a startled yelp from one of the guard dogs in the rear. It was cut off in mid-bark, but was followed quickly by more barks and fighting snarls. The attack had been well planned, coming from down wind and catching the column as it was strung out single file in dense woods. He had no idea what was happening, but as the noise came closer he had his weapon out and ready, dropping to one knee in a firing position.

  A human scream joined the snarling voices of the angry dogs. Yells and whoops sounded out like a flock of angry loons, then came a deep bass woofling sound, like an erratic motor trying to fire, and the next second the fight engulfed him. His first sight of the enemy almost caused a fatal hesitation in getting a shot off. Expecting an animal, he saw the figure of a skin-clad human dart from behind a tree. Dirty long hair streamed back from his head as he raised an arm. Jamie ducked and fired at the same time, throwing off his aim. The laser beam struck the tree inches from the wild man's head, with the slug following microseconds later. It exploded into the tree trunk, filling the savage's face with splinters. A short, metal-tipped spear sped past Jamie's shoulder as he fell backward. Judy killed the man with a single shot as she came up behind him, crouched low.

  Jamie staggered to his feet just as a huge lumbering form burst into sight, behung with a dog at it's throat and another clinging to it's flank. The creature hardly seemed to notice, making incredible speed for so large an animal. It reared as it came upon them from the right. Jamie's shot was true, but not immediately effective. The beam and slug staggered the animal, but did not fell it. Belly armor! Jamie thought as a huge paw swung for his head. He was trying to raise his aim when the paw struck his arm, crushing it against the side of his body and flinging him against the trunk of a tree. He watched, dazed, as Judy felled it with another shot when it dropped back down to a four footed stance. He was unable to make his body work; he saw the action as if it were a slow motion dream. Judy grappled desperately with another savage who flung himself onto her back before she could turn. A white whirlwind leaped into the fray, running from the forward part of the column. Lady, Jamie thought dreamily, as the dog toppled both figures with her attack, giving Judy a chance to get her knife loose and into the savage's body. He groaned and rolled onto his back, spurting blood. Jamie got drunkenly to his feet. Lady whirled and dashed off to find another foe.

  “This way!” Judy screamed, pulling him away from the bodies. He saw her hand become streaked with red and thought at first that she was hurt. He tried to help her and found that he couldn't move his right arm. He looked down and saw it jutting from his body at an impossible angle, blood running through a tear in his suit sleeve. He had lost his sidearm when struck, and thought of the little laser gun strapped to his boot, but it was miles away from his grasp. He drew his knife with his left hand, thinking crazily through the melee of human and animal screams that he must protect his pets. He couldn't see Fuzzy Britches, but Woggly was suddenly beside him, fangs bared.

  From ahead, he heard the commanding voice of Captain Masters, giving orders in a tone as calm as if he were conducting a guided tour rather than in the midst of a life and death struggl
e. They followed the voice, backing and turning until they found him directing the defense from the smallest of clearings, Conan at his side. He ordered two dogs who had come back at the sounds of fighting to move forward again and find a better spot for defense, counted the group around him with a swift glance, then gestured to a ranger coming up from behind them. He conferred in a low voice with the man, then said loudly, “Move forward, everyone forward! Protect the scientists! Conan, stay with me.” Conan crouched low, then raised up and woofed joyfully as he spotted Jamie.

  Jamie passed the next quarter hour in a nightmare of pain and worry and fear. The numbness wore off from his broken arm and was replaced by a throbbing fire that came and went with every pulse of his heart. There was no time nor place to stop for treatment, nor could he look for Fuzzy Britches, except as a side effect of watching out for more of the monsters he heard someone describe as bears. The skin-clad men had to be feral humans, perhaps even altered humans, working in concert with their animals. They pressed the attack with intelligence and determination, never showing themselves unnecessarily. Jamie knew of their presence only as sounds and shots coming from the rear. His vision became blurred with pain, causing him to stumble and stagger, but he kept grimly to his feet, fighting to shake the cobwebs from his mind. At last they stumbled through a water-filled drainage ditch and out of the forest onto a stretch of pavement where the rangers drew up a protective circle among humps of weather-broken concrete.

  Jamie collapsed immediately, unable to stand or even look for shelter once he stopped moving. “Fuzz,” he murmured. “Where is Fuzzy Britches?” Woggly licked at his arm, whining.

  “He's right here,” came a voice from his side. He felt the sting of a medicinal ampoule just as he recognized his pet. He saw Kristi's face hovering over him. “Fuzzy Britches,” he said weakly, and lost consciousness.

  With a clear field of fire, Masters no longer worried about their immediate ability to hold off the attackers, but he cast an anxious glance at the sky, fearing an overcast, moonless night, where their situation might become desperate indeed. As he looked, he spotted a group of floaters and sighed with relief. They had evidently been attracted by the smoke from laser beams torching wet wood and followed it to the source. As glad as he was to see them, he wondered why they had appeared so early and why there was four of them rather than one, but he put that puzzlement aside, knowing he would find out soon enough. He began seeing to the wounded and counting the missing.