Hunted lop-4

by James Alan Gardner

  Still nothing. I could be speaking a foreign language for all this computer cared about me…

  Oh.

  Three seconds later, the house-soul had popped open a door right in front of my face. Counselor must have authorized the computer to take orders from me. All I had to do was ask in Mandasar.

  The weather had turned spring-night cool, with a starry sky and three yellow moons the size of confetti. I lifted my wrist, and whispered to the implant, "Find Mayday source." Then I held out my arm and turned in a slow circle till the implant gave a beep. At that second, my arm pointed up the road and along the canal, in the direction the escape pod had been floating when I left it.

  That made sense. If the Mayday had come from a navy recovery team, the team would be close to the evac module.

  I told my wrist implant to switch to silent mode, so it wouldn’t squeal no matter what. You don’t want your beeper going off when you’re trying to sneak around in the dark… especially not within earshot of Mandasar warriors, ready to gut any human they met.

  For a second, I wondered if I was crazy to be out here at all. How did I think I could help? It was one thing to take on a single untrained warrior in full daylight; but if a navy recovery team was under attack by a whole militia of warriors, with every Mandasar believing the team was a desperate threat to their hives… it would take more than a few fighting tricks to get anyone out in one piece. Including me.

  On top of that, these navy folks likely came from the Jacaranda. They may have been sent to capture me and drag me off to some awful place halfway across the galaxy. If they were as nasty as Tobit said, they might even have set off a fake Mayday to flush me out of hiding.

  But… it was stupid to worry over what-ifs when there was only one right thing to do.

  Help the best I could. Hope the rest worked out.

  I started running up the road beside the silent dark waters of the canal.

  The first thing I found was an unconscious worker. It could have been Hib, Nib, or Pib… but it could also have been any other worker in the valley. Even with the moonlight, it was too dark to make out the teeny facial features that distinguish one worker from another.

  As far as I could tell, the worker wasn’t hurt, just unconscious. Breathing peacefully. That made me think it’d been shot by a hypersonic stunner — a standard navy-issue weapon, mostly used by Explorers who encounter unknown alien lifeforms. It’s handy to have a little pistol that knocks out attackers without killing them… especially when you’re on an unexplored planet and don’t know whether you’re shooting at a big dumb predator or a sentient being who’s just mad at you for trampling its sweet potatoes.

  If the navy team had stunners, they might not be in such trouble… as long as the guns’ batteries held out. Stun-pistols were good for twenty shots or so. That wasn’t nearly enough to take down every Mandasar in the marsh, but it was better than nothing. I’d have to be careful myself. If the team was looking to capture me, one shot from a stunner could lay me out cold for six hours.

  I left the worker where it was and moved forward again, this time keeping under the shadow of the trees between the road and canal. Soon after, I found an unconscious gentle, then an unconscious warrior. During our discussions that afternoon, Counselor had said all three castes took turns at sentry duty… and if an alert came in, the whole community fanned out over the marsh to find the intruders. Lucky for me, the searchers in this area had already got stunned; otherwise, they might be shouting, "He’s here, he’s here," and bringing the militia down on my head. That would be very bad.

  Half a kilometer and six more unconscious bodies later, I came to the escape pod. It was still floating in the middle of the canal, barely moving on the slow current. A scatter of Mandasar bodies lay flumped unconscious at the edge of the water, all of them warriors… as if there’d been a pitched battle here, not just sentries caught off guard in the dark.

  No human bodies in sight. So far, the navy folks were holding their own.

  I used my wrist implant to take another direction reading on the Mayday. Now, the signal was coming from the far side of the canal. The recovery team must have decided it was crazy to go farther into the marsh; instead, they’d headed across the water, where the land wasn’t cleared for crops. Nothing over there but scruffy black forest, and the ground sloping upward into low hills. The navy people were obviously running for cover and getting the heck out of Hollen valley. Good, I thought, they’ll be okay now. The recovery folks were retreating, and they didn’t have far to go till they’d be safe; Counselor had said there was no Mandasar population once you got to higher ground. I could go back the way I’d come, without having to worry about the navy team… and I’d better do that fast, before I ran into someone who wanted to slice first and ask questions later.

  When I turned around, the starlit marsh was alive with warriors galloping in my direction.

  The Mandasars hadn’t seen me yet: I was standing in dark shadows under trees. One of the unconscious warriors lying in the mud must have got off a signal before he was stunned — it only made sense that someone would be carrying a radio. Now the whole militia was charging toward the battle site… and I wanted to be long gone before they arrived.

  As quietly as I could, staying in shadow, I knelt and slipped into the canal. The water was just as cold as at lunchtime; just as muddy too, with the stagnant smell of algae right under my nose. I took a deep breath, then slipped beneath the surface, swimming with my eyes shut because I wouldn’t be able to see in the black muddiness anyway.

  My plan was to reach the trees on the other bank and just hide in the woods. I wasn’t one of those stealthy stalker-types who could slip silently past a horde of warriors on the hunt. My only hope was that they wouldn’t bother to search the far side; none of their people lived over there, so the warriors would likely concentrate their efforts on patrolling the main valley rather than making forays across the canal.

  I slid onto the opposite shore just before the first warriors arrived. When they saw the heaps of unconscious bodies, they broke into an angry chatter that covered any noise I made creeping into the woods. I kept going, crouched low and moving as fast as I could, trying to put distance between me and the Mandasars. Any second, I expected someone to shout, "Look over there!" But they were all too busy gabbling over their fallen comrades, and pointing toward the evac module bobbing quietly in the water.

  As I moved, things squished softly under my feet. I didn’t know what they were: insects, or puffballs, or jellyish Celestian lifeforms, I couldn’t tell. Fleeing through the dark doesn’t give you much chance to appreciate alien ecologies. I just hoped I wouldn’t disturb any teeny critters with venomous bites. The Mandasars would’ve cleared out all larger predators — their race has no guilt about endangering species they don’t like — but they wouldn’t bother to deal with anything whose teeth were too small to go through carapace. Black widow spiders, for instance. The closest real black widow was surely forty light-years away, but I still managed to make myself nervous about them as I slunk through the pitch-dark forest.

  Every now and then, a puff of breeze brought the burning-wood smell of Musk B. The warriors behind me were keyed up, just itching to fight something. If I were a worker or gentle, I’d be heading for home real fast — warriors would soon be swiping at trees just to work off their tension. It wouldn’t surprise me if they hauled the escape pod out of the canal and tin-snipped it to ribbons; with so much musk in the air, they’d be looking for anything to attack.

  The land under my feet angled upward in fits and starts: a little slope, then a level patch, then another slanty climb. The sound of angry voices faded behind me. I was just thinking it might be safe to rest when I came across a heavy slash of damage to the forest’s undergrowth.

  It looked like someone had driven a bulldozer through here, on a big swath leading backward to the canal and forward up the wooded hillslope. That could only mean one thing: a warrior had come to this side of
the canal and was plowing his way after the navy team. He must have spotted them running away from the scene of the battle… and like a typical musk-mad lunatic, he’d charged after them on his own instead of waiting for reinforcements.

  That was good news for the recovery team — if the warrior had stayed behind to tell the militia what was happening, the whole forest would be crawling with berserker Mandasars. As it was, the warrior probably got himself stunned cold as soon as he got close to the navy folks.

  Still… I decided to follow the smashed-down trail. If nothing else, I could make better time taking the flattened path than trying to pick my way through the brush.

  Three minutes later, I heard noises ahead of me. Crashing. Something going WHUMP. Branches breaking.

  I ran forward without thinking. The noises got louder: grunts and the clack of pincers closing on empty air. A warrior had just missed grabbing hold of somebody.

  My eye caught a silvery glint on the trail in front of me: a stun-pistol tossed away. Usually, the guns have a green light telling when there’s enough juice in their batteries for another shot… but as I sprinted past, the light didn’t show the tiniest flicker. The stunner was completely tapped out, while up ahead some poor unarmed someone was trying to fight an angry warrior bare-handed.

  The trail broke into a level clearing; and that was where the unarmed someone had decided to make a stand. It wasn’t a full navy recovery team — there was only one person, ducking away from a warrior even bigger than Zeeleepull. In the dark I could only see silhouettes, but that was enough to tell me the target under attack was a woman. She moved fast and dodgy, as if she’d done a fair bit of martial arts. Still, general combat training doesn’t teach you the specific ways to take down a Mandasar warrior… and a fight to the death isn’t the best time to start experimenting.

  The warrior hadn’t noticed me yet. Even better, he had his back to me; and that meant his tail pointed in my direction. Since it worked so well before, I launched myself forward with a run and a dive, landing on the warrior’s shell and cinching my arm around his neck.

  My move took both the warrior and the woman by surprise. She gasped, then dived to one side, out of my field of vision. I hoped she was going to put some distance between herself and the Mandasar’s feet, because he started to buck and bounce like crazy; if the woman didn’t get clear, she’d be trampled to paste.

  "Keep back," I told her, half-whispering for fear of being heard by someone back at the canal… which was crazy because the warrior was shouting his head off. "Don’t worry," I said to the woman, "it’ll be okay."

  I hoped that was true. This ride was ten times worse than my scuffle with Zeeleepull; the warrior beneath me had worked himself into frothing battle frenzy, not to mention he thought I wanted to kidnap his family. His neck may have pinched as my arm rubbed up and down the shell plates on his throat, but it would take more than a little chafing to make him surrender.

  As the warrior hopped and heaved, I did too: flopping about on his back, waiting for him to get tired enough to slow down. It took a long, long time; at least it felt long, though maybe it was only a minute. At last I could feel him weaken to the point where he might actually be using his brain to think of new tactics… so I leaned forward again like I did with Zeeleepull, held the warrior’s snout shut and pushed my palm to seal over his nose. Speaking in Mandasar, I whispered, "I am Blood-Consort Edward York, last and rightful husband of Verity the Second, High Queen and Supreme Ruler of all those who tread the Blessed Land. If you fear her name, you will yield; if not, be named her enemy and pay the price of your folly."

  They were the same words that came out of my mouth earlier in the day. This time, though, I was just reciting from memory — it wasn’t like before, when I felt like something had possessed me. Still, if the speech worked once, it might work again… and with luck, the warrior would catch a faint whiff of queen’s venom on my hand.

  Slowly, the Mandasar stopped struggling. I couldn’t tell if he was just tired, or if maybe my words and smell had cut through the battle rage. Whatever it was, he finally eased to a standstill. I kept my arm around his throat but let go of his nose so he could breathe. For a few seconds, both of us did nothing but suck in air.

  Close by my side, a soft voice whispered, "Damn, it’s good to see that black uniform. Thank God there’s always an Explorer when you need one."

  I turned my head… and nearly screamed. There in the shadows was the admiral woman who’d died kissing me — face splotch and all.

  14

  TAKING ON THE LARRY

  The dead woman had come back, wrapped in thick midnight blackness — as if the only thing I could see was that smudge on her cheek. Terror jolted through me, and I hurled myself off the warrior onto the ground… anything to get away from some withered-up corpse who wanted to kiss me.

  "What’s wrong?" the woman whispered.

  I couldn’t answer — my whole body had clenched tight with fear. I might have just lain there, gibbering and quivering, if the warrior hadn’t given his pincers an angry clack. He heaved himself up to full height, giving the woman a sneer before turning toward me. I was the one who’d hurt him. The look in his eye said he wanted to hurt me back.

  "Hold on," the woman told the warrior. "Stop fighting and let’s talk."

  The warrior ignored her. "Bleed you, recruiter," he growled at me in English. "Suffer you, as our people have suffered."

  One second I was sprawled on the ground, still trembling at the thought of ghosts; the next, I was on my feet, with my hands wrapped around the warrior’s nose-spike. The move wasn’t my doing — something had taken charge of my body again, making my legs leap forward without orders from my brain. My arms had gone all strong too, strong enough to drag the warrior’s nose toward me the way I’d dragged Zeeleepull… except that I pulled him toward my chest instead of my face. That was crazy. I’d never got venom on my chest. There was just my shirt, wet from my swim across the canal and sweaty from the hours of fever.

  "You know who I am," my mouth said in Mandasar. "You know what I am. You know."

  The warrior’s eyes narrowed, as if he was about to ram his snout forward — stab his nose-spike through my ribs. Then his whole face changed, opening wide with wonderment. "Teelu" he whispered.

  Your Majesty.

  If I’d had control over my body, I would have blurted out, "No, no, no." You never use the word Teelu for anyone but a Mandasar queen — Teelu is way too worshipful to waste on a mere consort. But the poor kid was so ignorant about his own culture, he didn’t know better.

  The moment I let go of him, he dropped his body to the ground, pressing his nose into the dirt. "Teelu… Teelu… Teelu…"

  Which was a whole lot better than trying to kill me. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to correct his vocabulary.

  "I’m impressed," the admiral woman said.

  Fright chilled me again, and I retreated a step — I was back in command of my body, and feeling a strong urge to bolt into the dark. But I swallowed hard and made myself say something half-intelligible. "Who are you?"

  "Lieutenant Admiral Festina Ramos," she said. The same name she’d used before we crossed the line. "What’s your name?"

  "Edward." Talking to an admiral, I should have been way more military: Explorer Second Class Edward York, reporting for duty! But my mouth was too dry with fear. "I saw you die," I said. "On the Willow."

  The admiral shook her head. "I’ve never been on the Willow. And I’ve never died — I’d remember something like that." She stared at me a moment. "Was that your ship then? The Willow?"

  I nodded.

  "Why did you have to evacuate?"

  "Someone was stealing it," I said. "I hated just to run, but Explorer Tobit told me—"

  "Tobit?" the admiral interrupted "Phylar Tobit?"

  "Yes."

  "Which means Jacaranda is in this system?"

  "It was for a while," I answered. "It might have gone chasing the black ship."<
br />
  "Bloody hell," the admiral muttered, "I hate it when Prope’s in the neighborhood. She takes her orders from Admiral Vincence; and Vincence is the slipperiest schemer on the whole High Council."

  Even in the dark, I could see the admiral make a face like she’d bitten into an apple and found a worm. Or maybe just the back half of a worm.

  "You’ll have to tell me everything," she said, "like why Prope is chasing a black ship, and why you thought I was dead. But for now, let’s just get out of here. Give me a second to grab my Bumbler…"

  She started across the clearing toward a shadowy blob lying in the grass. Bumblers were small machines with all kinds of data sensors — standard equipment for Explorers, though no one ever gave me one. Halfway to the Bumbler, the admiral stopped. "I’d better turn off my emergency signal," she muttered. "It just tells Prope where to find me." She lifted her wrist and told the implant, "Terminate Mayday." Lowering her wrist, she added, "For all I know, it might have told recruiters where to find me too."

  "You know about the recruiters?" I asked.

  "That’s why I’m on Celestia," she replied. "Trying to shut down the bastards. I was watching their main offices on the other side of the planet when I picked up your escape pod’s homing signal. Considering how tedious stakeouts are, I decided it would be more interesting to make sure you were okay."

  "Well," I said, feeling all awkward, "thanks for coming. I’m sorry to drag an admiral so far from her…"

  "Don’t apologize." She smiled, her teeth white in the dark. "And don’t think of me as an admiral. I may wear the gray, but I’m an Explorer, first, last, and always. So you have to call me Festina, all right? I don’t want to hear any more…"

  She never finished her sentence. In the darkness, something started to laugh.

  The sound was like a pack of hyenas, but breathier: piercing and whistly, echoing off the hillside. The noise seemed intentionally designed to carry long distances… and to scare the heebie-jeebies out of anyone who heard it. The crazy cackle never stopped for air, on and on, digging its fingernails into my nerves; and it was coming toward us.