A Jungle of Stars

by Jack L. Chalker

  "Why should I help you, lady--Bromgrev or whatever you are? I work for the opposition."

  "You work for yourself, Bumgartner," she observed. "You like the winning side. You are in it for the work, not the cause. I am about to win, and those who are with me will share in the rewards."

  "Now, look here--" he began impatiently.

  "Do I have to assimilate everyone in this room to prove it to you?" she asked him.

  He calmed down and grew thoughtful.

  "If you need me so much, why not just assimilate me?"

  "You know the reason: Hunter has set up blockages in you as he did in all his agents. But, if necessary, I can operate without you."

  "Okay, okay, all right," he said, throwing up his hands. "Let's talk about it."

  CHAPTER TWO

  The planetary destruction force was composed of just a dozen large ships, each powerful enough to obliterate a huge mass. In addition the same principles that governed the space drive itself were directed to a different purpose: Pushing along a huge mass of rock held with tractor beams, the destruction force prepared to transform the mass into anti-matter once it had been placed in the proper trajectory to strike the target--still distant--ahead of them.

  A dense fighter screen darted in and out and all around, but they were no match for the well-planned attack. Drawn thin within a large volume, they could ill afford to concentrate their forces, for fear that The Hunter's attack was but a mass diversion to allow for systematic pinpoint attacks on major fronts.

  For primary defense, the Rhambdans depended on the Mind.

  To get close enough to Rhambda to transform the great mass they towed and make certain it hit, the attackers would have to be almost in orbit.

  But this time things were different.

  Hunter sat under a central command helmet in the special ship constructed to monitor the attack. The massive power generators in this ship were not directed at the mass, and it threw no tractor beams. Using the amplifiers, Hunter's own mind threw a shield over the entire attack force--a shield of such power that none could break it.

  Gunnery was handled by Koldon and Savage, although neither had to fire a shot. The combination of fighter protection and the massed locus of the power shield had protected them from attack.

  The massed squadrons of Rhambdan defense units were suicidally throwing themselves at the towed planetoid, ignoring the enemy fighter screen. It was having some effect: despite massive losses, parts of the planetoid were being chipped away. As Savage watched with his 180 degree vision, he could see huge chunks get torn out of the mass by the concentrated gunnery beams of the Rhambdan ships.

  To Savage, it was also clear that they would be in position over Rhambda, even moving at the A-1 slowness demanded by the tow job, in a matter of minutes--far too quickly for the Rhambdans to take out the bulk of the planetoid.

  Suddenly his view faded out. The automatics he had preset when getting into battle stations had brought him out of the circuitry almost on cue.

  "What's the matter, Savage?" Gayal's concerned voice came over the ship's intercom. "Why are you no longer manning your gun?"

  "Must be a malfunction of the timer!" he called out, shaking his head clear. "I'll be back in harness in a minute. I'm not critical, anyway."

  Slowly he raised his head and looked around.

  Koldon reclined opposite him, still deep within the guns. Gayal remained immobile at the helm, her body strapped in the forward chair. Stephen Wade's body was similarly immobile in his chair behind hers.

  Quietly Savage unstrapped himself and sat up. He got unsteadily to his feet, to which he could feel strength and circulation rapidly return.

  The vessel was a modified pickup ship; aft, where the cabins would have been, though, were the amplifiers for The Hunter's effort. Because they were all powered from the engines below, Savage went over to the red and yellow cables which led from the amplifiers into the deck. Taking out a piece of coiled copper wire and a pocketknife, he wrapped the wire around two live terminals on the master amplifiers, then took it down to the two cables.

  Split seconds were all he had, he knew. Once he broke the cable, the copper wire must immediately touch it, or there was a chance that the automated mechanisms would free the others before the proper actions could take place.

  He sweated nervously as he cut the yellow insulation from around the top cable. Below--exposed--were the massed cables he needed.

  Putting the thick, rubber-lined glove over his left hand, he grasped the copper wire, bringing it out to full length.

  "Savage? How's it coming?" Gayal's voice asked, sounding as mechanical as the ship, since it was actually the verbalization of her thoughts slowed to a speed which those not cybernetically linked to the machinery could understand.

  "Okay!" he called to her. "One more minute!"

  He held his breath and touched the copper wire to the exposed cable.

  The lights dimmed, and the ship seemed to loose even the pulsation of the engines. That was all.

  He wondered if something had gone wrong. He waited for a moment, then wrapped the coil around the cable so that it would stay, and went back into the command bridge.

  Everything looked the same except for the dimmer lighting.

  He had a dryness in his throat. "Gayal?" he called. "What is the position of the ship?"

  There was no response.

  "Gayal!" he shouted, his voice echoing around the walls. "What's going on?"

  Silence answered him.

  The three forms on the bridge continued their rhythmic breathing but did not stir.

  He went over to the manual controls and punched in.

  "Break off! Break off!" he called into the transceiver. "Abort." He flipped on the monitors overhead.

  As soon as the Mind had been suddenly freed of its blockage, it had reached out hungrily to take the opposition ships.

  It had not done very well. A few lingered, but the bulk of The Hunter's craft had gone into D. It had gotten one of the bigger ships, apparently, but the rest were too quick for it--a tribute to the training of their captains and their equipment. The cybernetically linked minds thought faster than the Mind.

  The planetoid could no longer be held by one lone ship, and had started to move away. It was already in the gravity well of Rhambda, and so was trapped. In a short time, it would either become a new small moon of the planet or become the largest meteor in that planet's history.

  Slowly, deliberately, Savage took the ship away from Rhambda, feeding-in the coordinates which The Bromgrev's surrogate had given him in the office back in Haven. Then he realized suddenly that he had not yet sent the signal. Well, that was all right, too. In good time.

  The alarm bells rang abruptly, telling him he was near his destination. He looked up at the monitors and saw it--a dark planetoid in the outer reaches of the Rhambdan system. A building of some kind sat on it--a rounded dome showed plainly under magnification. A disk lock was on top of a lower building to the rear of the dome.

  Savage brought the ship to the disk and settled it gently down. Then he walked back to the airlock.

  Equalization was achieved in a minute or two, and he opened the lock door unhesitatingly. A similar lock appeared just outside, and he pushed that open as well.

  The second lock was the building's--and it was obviously out of place. The geometry of the room and the hall that it opened on were like nothing he had ever seen before. The place had not been built for any race he knew--or could imagine.

  He heard footfalls. Down the corridor plodded a sleek orange form, rather graceful, like a cheetah on the African plains. It was large for any cat--larger than any lion he had ever seen--but its squatness, box shape, and incredible muscles on all six of its limbs showed that its home world was much heavier than his.

  It drew up near to Savage and halted, studying him for a moment.

  "It is done, then?" asked the Rhambdan, telepathically.

  Savage nodded. "I'll send the signal
. You reintegrate the pilot and gunner and take them to a decent place to recover."

  "Food may even be prepared to your specifications," the cat informed him.

  "Good. Prepare it for three and arrange for it to be served about an hour after the gunner and pilot have had the chance to revive."

  "It shall be done. The place is mostly automated; I have only to give the orders."

  "How many of you are there here?" he asked.

  "Just me," the cat answered. "This ensures against accidents happening to telepathic receptives who might be here."

  Savage nodded, and he and the cat re-entered the ship.

  As Savage switched in the signals device, the Rhambdan fiddled with the pilot's master control panel, removing it with brute strength. Savage noted that the Rhambdan's forepaws were very much like small, short-fingered hands with long, nasty claws. It used all of its assets very competently.

  It struck him as odd that, after all this, it was the first Rhambdan he had ever seen.

  The signal sent, Savage helped the Rhambdan remove Gayal first, then Koldon, from the ship's circuitry and from the ship physically. Both were still out, but the Rhambdan assured him that they would come around in no time.

  Savage sent the cat off after situating the other two and telling the Rhambdan what needed to be done.

  He stared at the still strapped-in form of Stephen Wade. It was silent, immobile except for an almost imperceptible rising and falling of the chest.

  Savage strode over to a panel below his gunnery station and pressed a stud. A small compartment opened, and he removed his .38 and checked to see that it was loaded, clean, and ready to go.

  Then he sat down to wait.

  He soon grew impatient and uneasy. Rising, he looked out the lock, down that long, alien corridor. Nothing stirred. If the Rhambdan was coming back, it showed no inclination to return soon. That was good.

  He walked back over to the still silent form of Stephen Wade, The Hunter.

  Wade opened his eyes and looked straight at Savage.

  "It would have worked, you know," Wade said softly. "If you'd connected the red cable I'd have been as short-circuited as our two friends over there."

  "I know," Savage replied. "Don't think I didn't consider it. Come to think of it, what made you so damned certain that I wouldn't?"

  Hunter chuckled. "Savage, if you haven't seen by now how transparent you are, you never will. I could still have destroyed you in that room, you know. But once I knew who--Hell, Savage, I told you before that you're revenge-oriented with a one-track mind. Considering what's been done to you, you had to decide against The Bromgrev." He stopped, and looked disdainfully at Savage's pistol. "I wish you'd brought something more reassuring than that primitive blunderbuss."

  "It will do the job," Savage assured him. "Can you do yours?"

  "I feel certain I can," Wade replied. "The nature of this beast is that it will head in a direct line for Earth once it's done. This will be tricky. But The Bromgrev thinks I'm caught in that contraption over there, and will have no choice but to come here personally to handle--er, to do what he plans in order to get rid of me. His ship will head here on a straight course--and I will be pulled back on a straight course. I should intersect the ship before I'm halfway home."

  "You might not get out before you're caught, too, you know," Savage pointed out, scratching an itch on his neck with the claw.

  "You're counting on it, aren't you?" Wade replied, and grinned. "That is the plot, isn't it?"

  Savage said nothing.

  "You know what gave it away, don't you?" Wade said knowingly. "The hook."

  Savage looked at the metal claw at the end of his right arm bemusedly. "What do you mean?" he asked, knowing the answer.

  "You got yourself made into Adonis but you kept the hook. It bothered me. Why would he keep that claw? I kept asking myself."

  "If it is so obvious," Savage put in in an irritated tone, "why go on?"

  "Because I'm going to screw you up. Other people have tried to beat me, you know. I've always won in the end. I'm going to get away with it, Savage: I'm going to kill The Bromgrev and survive to come after you."

  "The Haven computer puts your odds at under 9 percent of getting out before the cataclysm," Savage pointed out. "You know that."

  "The computer only conjectures about me in my natural form. It has no real idea of my reflexes or capabilities... Insufficient data, Savage. The odds are in my favor." He stopped as Savage turned with a jerk toward the door. "What's the matter?" Hunter asked.

  "Thought I heard someone in the hall," Savage mumbled softly.

  "Don't worry, it's nothing," Wade reassured. "I will know if anyone comes close enough to hear us."

  "I have confidence in the pistol, Wade--not you."

  "Suit yourself. It should be an interesting contest, really. We're so much alike."

  "You've never loved anybody but yourself," Savage snapped. "You're the antithesis of humanity--in the broadest sense of that term. No, Wade, we are not alike."

  "Sure we are," the Kreb taunted. "And we'll grow more alike as you go along. Law of the jungle, Savage. Look what The Bromgrev became in his battle with me. He really was all that is good once, you know."

  "I wonder how much longer it will be?" Savage growled impatiently. "They should have left by now."

  "Why should they hurry? After all, as long as I'm a prisoner of the amplifiers, verified by our cat witness, there's no rush. The Bromgrev was always orderly."

  Savage gave a mirthless chuckle; then pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply. "You might answer me one thing, if there's time."

  "Go ahead," the other invited.

  "Why can't you just kill yourself? The Bromgrev could."

  "No, The Bromgrev cannot. That's what you--or Bumgartner--are for. Oh, the doppelgangers, sure. Do you miss a cell when it wears off the skin? But suicide--real suicide. I don't look forward to this, you know."

  "I thought it would be the highpoint of your overly long life," Savage retorted sarcastically.

  "In a way. But you've died only once. I have died thousands of--maybe more--times. That backlog will hit me when I go. It will produce the most horrible set of flashback sensations imaginable. If we are indeed both mad, it is that which did it. I don't think my brother or myself could bring ourselves to do it."

  Savage shrugged off the idea. "Why haven't you two simply had it out long ago--face to face?"

  "Doesn't do any good. We're of equal strength and limitations. He's tried it several times, in several ways--but it's always been a draw. He beats me, then I beat him. Read your Bible. That's why he's so desperate to have pulled all this--and I'm gambling my life to end it."

  "Well, it's--" Savage started, but suddenly a high pitched screech came through the cabin sound system.

  "That's it!" Wade cried excitedly. "The signal from my agents! The Bromgrev is away and in space! Do it! Do it now!"

  Savage aimed the pistol, but hesitated.

  "Do it!" Wade screamed. "She's only one little girl!"

  Savage fired.

  STEP SIX

  Gayal gave a low moan and opened her eyes. They refused to focus for a few minutes, then the double images seemed to merge. Koldon was standing over her.

  "My head is killing me," she groaned.

  "I know," Koldon sympathized. "Mine's only now getting down to a dull explosion. Just take it easy for a while."

  "What happened?" she asked.

  "Savage doublecrossed us," Koldon replied. "I never did quite trust that man. Hunter blocked his mind, but you could see a tremendous amount of hurt and hate mixed in his eyes. I warned Hunter, but he wouldn't believe me."

  "Savage--The Bromgrev?" she gasped plaintively. "I just don't believe it!"

  "I'm still not certain he is," Koldon told her. "Somehow, I seem to get the idea that, in the game of Hunter and Bromgrev, Savage was playing, too. But he shorted out the cybernetics--that's the only thing that could have caused what
we went through."

  "But--" She raised herself up, then held her head and groaned again. "But where is he? And where is The Hunter? And where are we?"

  "Wherever we are, it's not any planet I've ever been on or heard about. The walls have that strange fluidity! And the doors! Most doors are built to accommodate the shape of the beings using them. But these...!" He muttered something about hourglasses and tesseracts.

  She saw what he meant. Bumgartner, Koldon, Vard, Valiakean, Earth, Savage--all alien. But the builders of this room had been so different that it was difficult to conceive of them existing in the same continuum. This was a total alienness beyond experience or description.

  However, the beds, the curtains--these were "human" or real-world touches, lending some sanity to the surroundings.

  "Now what do we do?" she asked the Quoark. She had never felt more helpless.

  "We wait," he replied.

  A small speaker crackled to life like an ancient radio. "The game is over," Savage's voice came at them, echoing around the weird angles of the room. "There is nothing left but the explanation. If you two will join me, I have food prepared."

  The doorway opened impossibly, as if collapsing in and of itself until nothing was left of the folds. A long corridor was revealed.

  "Shall we go?" Koldon asked.

  Gayal nodded and got out of the bed. They both made their way through the door and down the hallway.

  At the end, a similarly alien room had been made over into an almost conventional small dining room. It contained a table, linen, eating utensils, and dishes spread out before them. Savage was just finishing his meal. He looked up at them and smiled as they entered.

  He looks older, much older, Gayal thought, almost as if he had the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

  "Go ahead and eat," he urged them, motioning to the food. "It's pretty good and compatible with all of us."

  Still they hesitated; then hunger overtook them.

  Savage lit a cigarette and said nothing.

  "Just what the hell--?" Koldon started, between chews.