Beast Master's Ark

by Andre Norton; Lyn McConchie

  *Follow, then,* he mind-sent her. She dropped back, shifting to her own preferred speed. She'd catch up when they slowed or halted.

  It was plain Dumaroy had no intention of stopping until they reached the line camp. He was holding his mount to a canter still, but every sign was that if he found what he feared he might run crazy after anything he could blame. Storm had better have a trail to point the man down when that happened.

  Trouble, always trouble. Storm had hoped this season, once the work was up to date, to take time off and investigate further the sealed caves deep into one side of the far mountains across an arm of the desert. Some other race, not native to Arzor, had either carved out or expanded and made use of caves they'd found there. To both the Norbies and the Nitra the area was sacred. They had not created the caves and to them the area was a place from which to stay away. The cave's creators had not interacted with the natives, but they'd left an indelible impression of power.

  Storm had been into the caves twice. By accident the first time and for sanctuary. The second time Storm had gone in following the lost son of a rich off-worlder. The cave system was huge, miles of tunnels and vast high-ceilinged caves. There were a few Forerunner artifacts to be found there, but on Arzor there was little money available to be spent on investigating such things. Nor would the natives appreciate humans digging into the places they held taboo.

  He linked with Baku as he rode. Nothing. Trotting far behind now, Surra too could report no scent she did not know. He linked tighter to the eagle, sending her ahead to where the camp should be. His body relaxed, balanced automatically in the saddle. His mount would follow the other. The link tightened further. Now he could see fuzzily in the shades of gray that was full link with the team's eyes in the sky.

  There! The camp. No sign of horse or rider, and the door was shut. He bit back a sigh before sending Baku swinging out again. He could see no tracks, but Surra could follow the trail. He dropped out of the tight linkage with Baku and reached for her. As soon as she came to the camp she should follow the bad-smelling tracks if any were there. She spat in disgust, but she'd do as he wanted. Now to slow Dumaroy if possible. The harness mare was starting to fall behind.

  "Rig!" There was a snap in the voice, which demanded attention.

  "What?"

  "I think we should leave the mare back here. Then we circle the camp. Come in from the Big Blue side. That way if the enemy is still around we could have them cornered against the desert."

  "What about Jarry?" The voice was harsh with strain but the rancher's horse had slowed.

  "If he's dead and they're gone, hurrying won't help. If he's dead and they're still there, better we try to ambush them. Find out who or what they are. If he's still alive we're more likely to save him if we aren't known to be around." Storm was relying on Dumaroy's background. The man was a hothead but he'd been a good soldier and served his time against the Xiks. Putting the plans on a war footing reminded the rancher of that.

  It worked. Ahead of Storm, Dumaroy pulled his horse to a walk. He dropped to the ground and tethered the sweating harness horse. "If we circle from here we can have cover all the way. We can come in direct from the desert side. Temporary camp's an abandoned Djimbut burrow. We shored up the sides an' roof, split the area in half an' put a door in an' a pair of bunks. The open half's for the horses. That's it, pretty basic, but it's only used for the night now an' again. We leave stores an' spare bedding in a steel soldier's trunk at the back."

  "There's cover all the way in from the Big Blue side?"

  "There is. I lead." The last was a flat statement. Storm nodded in agreement.

  "Your territory."

  Dumaroy remounted and loosed his reins, setting the pony into a faster walk as they circled. Behind them Surra was closing fast, cutting toward the camp across the circle the riders were making. Unobtrusively Storm slowed them again. The dune cat reached camp and he felt the shock of her emotion as she struck along the trail she could scent. She would keep clear of the incoming riders, too. They broke through the screen of brush and Dumaroy gave a hoarse cry.

  "Hello the camp! Jarry? You there?"

  Storm moved out wide of the man. He allowed his pony to drift forward, watching the area all the while. But he could slow the rancher no longer. In a flurry of sand the man was heading for the hut. Storm received quick impressions from the hunting pair. Baku had the dune cat in sight and was ranging ahead. Surra was trailing with caution but swiftly. Neither had seen or scented danger, but they were old campaigners and stayed wary. By the doorway Dumaroy halted. He bent down, pulling the door open to look inside, then reined back his pony hard with another cry.

  Storm walked up slowly. He could guess what the man had found and he was right. Two jumbled skeletons lay inside the cool shelter. Of Jarry only bones remained. The horse too was only bones, but beside him the saddle was untouched on the saddle peg. Jarry's hat, boots, and belt lay undamaged by the bunk. Storm moved past the stricken rancher and examined the bunk. He looked up sharply.

  "Dumaroy, check the trunk, did Jarry use the blankets?"

  The rancher shook his head without moving. "Nope. The boy had his own sleep sack. Pretty good one his ma made him. Padded an' with a liner she could take out an' wash."

  "Then where is it?"

  The big man stared vaguely around. "I dunno." His grief and puzzlement were about to flare into fury. "Why's it important?"

  Storm bent to pick up a tiny shred of material. "Look. Frawn fabric. Was Lasco's sleep sack made of that?"

  "Yeah, so what?"

  Storm was examining the bunk structure itself. He straightened slowly. "Look here, Dumaroy. This wood's been damaged." He saw the rancher was about to explode and held up a hand. "Listen. I think this has something to do with whatever killed the boy. There's shreds of the sleep sack on the floor. The wood across the center of the bunk looks almost as if someone took a drill to it." He paused. "Or some mighty funny teeth."

  The rancher swore savagely. "What?"

  "See for yourself. Listen. Lasco died here but there's no blood. If he died in his bunk, what would blood soak into?"

  Dumaroy stared at him, his face suddenly blank. "The sleep sack, the middle of the bunk, but that's ..."

  "What's missing or damaged," Storm finished.

  "You think whatever killed Jarry went on to eat anything with blood on it." He bent to examine the scored wood again. "Good teeth. Hope they choke on the splinters." As Storm had expected, the rancher's mood was turning to rage. "I'm gonna get whoever it was an' when I do . . ."

  Storm interrupted. "Surra has their trail. What say we follow it. At least get some idea of the direction they went."

  "What are we waiting for?" Dumaroy was outside and back on his horse in seconds. Then, as he reined the animal into a turn he gaped. "Storm?" His voice had gone hoarse with horror. "Storm, the kid wasn't stupid. He'd shut the doors. They aren't wrecked. How'd they get to him?"

  "Underneath." The answer was quiet.

  "But..."

  "Think about it. Something too light to leave real tracks. What they do leave is a million tiny marks you can barely see even with the light on them. They get into a hut through a shut door and don't wake the man inside. I figure a lot of somethings, light, small, fast, and likely cannibal."

  Dumaroy looked sick. "Cannibal?"

  "We never find any of their bodies. I suspect they eat their own dead before they leave."

  The rancher jerked upright in his saddle. "I saw a vid once. Made on Terra. Some wildlife program about soldier ants. You think it was something like that?"

  "Maybe. It fits." The other was shaking his head. "I know there isn't anything like that on Arzor—that we know about. But how long have we been here?" He knew the answer, as did Dumaroy. It had been almost one hundred and thirty years since the first trio of ships had set humans down on Arzor. Six generations. In that time they'd barely scratched the surface of what they could learn of the planet.

  The na
tives had evolved here, born and bred to live in the vast semidesert lands. Tribes and the clans held large territories each. The land gave little food unless there was a wide territory in which to hunt. With the coming of humans had come horses as well, and both Norbies and Nitra had taken to those like a thirsty frawn to clean water. Settlers herded frawns in ranches, Norbies bought, traded, and occasionally stole mounts, their lives changing in consequence.

  Dumaroy knew Arzor's history as well as any settler, that is to say, the basics as humans knew them, which wasn't a lot. He made no direct answer, turning his mount's head toward the desert.

  "If we're gonna trail them, let's get going." He spoke again after several miles. "Maybe they do come from here. Maybe they was in those sealed caves. Maybe we should blast the whole lot open an' clean them all out."

  Storm said nothing. It was a possibility, and even if it were true it would be quite a while before Dumaroy was in a position to try. But he considered the idea. They had found one cave that contained over a hundred plots of plants native to very many worlds. Another where it seemed there had been some sort of interworlds 200.

  Perhaps there had also been a collection for insects or whatever stood in for them on some worlds. If a cave like that had been breached through accident or design, what could now be breeding and growing free unknown to natives or humans on Arzor? He'd talk to the Ark scientists when he returned. They might have ideas that could be useful. They could stop at the camp again on the way back. Maybe there'd be DNA left on the shreds of material or on the scored bunk slats, which would give the scientists something to work on.

  Dumaroy was keeping his mount to a fast walk. But Surra had a good start. With luck it would be dark before they caught up to her. Dark. The thought was worrying. These things preferred to hunt at night. They seemed to be able to run down a frawn. That meant that even if they weren't very fast they could keep going. Out in the Big Blue there were no water holes. They had only their canteens for themselves and the beasts. Storm made up his mind.

  Ahead Surra raced down the trail as fast as she could for several more miles. At the edge of a wide deep gully she halted, then she moved to shade and lay down. Dumaroy nudged his mount to move faster and Storm allowed it. They came up with the dune cat an hour later.

  "Why's she waiting?"

  "I told her to, Dumaroy. We knew the direction they're taking. If we go deeper in we could get trapped. Those things hunt at night. You want to wake up and find them all over you?"

  The rancher shuddered. "Nope. Guess we go back. I gotta tell Mirt about his boy, too, an' see the kid's properly buried. All right, Storm. We go back, but this ain't the last of it."

  Storm shook his head slowly. "No," he said softly. "I'm afraid it isn't. There was something else you didn't see, Rig. Surra found a couple more skeletons on the way here. I had her scout around. I can't be sure, but it looks as if those things, whatever they are, know animals circle to get back to familiar territory when they're chased."

  Dumaroy looked at him with an odd kind of dread in his eyes. He waited.

  "Surra found where the things split up. One lot kept following. The other half of them waited and the frawn ran right into them. I won't say they're intelligent, Dumaroy. It could be just instinct. But that trick is dangerous either way. That's why I wanted to turn back now."

  "We don't circle like that," the rancher objected.

  "Don't we? We'd run straight for home. Do you want to land them there?" Storm asked.

  "Hell, no!" He glanced over. "Guess I'm out of my depth in this one. I like something I can fight, straight up." His face twisted in bitter humor. "I can't blame this on the Norbies. For once the goats are out of it."

  "Not out of it, Dumaroy. They could be in more danger than us humans. Let's just get back and make war talk. Those scientists from the shuttle may have a better idea of how to deal with this."

  They kept to a steady walk the remainder of the day. By nightfall they had collected the mare and cart and were past the camp where Jarry's bones lay on the gnawed bunk. Storm had shreds of the sleep sack, and a broken slat from the bunk in his saddlebags. They made camp in a cave large enough to take them all, and in an unbroken half circle around the opening Storm made a fire. The beasts slept peacefully, but both men only dozed lightly and in turns. They kept the fire burning until dawn. Then they let it die. In the soft lavender half-light nothing stirred.

  Chapter Three

  Quade had strolled off, still talking to Uncle Brion. Tani stayed, making a fuss over the coyotes and stroking Mandy. She teased the big bird with a length of grass stem, tickling her chest feathers as Mandy attempted to grab the stem. The bird was enjoying the game.

  "I've been neglecting you lately," Tani told her. "I know Marten took good care of you while I was so busy building more of your breed for Dulshan, but it isn't the same. I missed you and it's a lovely afternoon to be outside."

  She tickled Mandy's breast feathers and gasped as the bird commented. True, the words had been in another language, but Tani had been around enough to know the meaning even though that wasn't a tongue she spoke. Marten had, however, and she knew how bitter he'd been. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, though. An hour later she knew she wasn't. Marten had known he wouldn't be continuing with them long before the Ark left Fremlyn orbit. She'd thought it kind of him to volunteer to look after her team while she was so busy.

  He didn't appear to have done any harm to Minou or Ferarre, but he'd taught Mandy a number of trigger words. Then to each he'd added a phrase or sentence either in the gutter argot of a world or in one-speech, where it was translatable. If Mandy heard the trigger word she would utter the comment.

  He'd chosen common words, such as morning, afternoon, evening, pleasant day, and probably others Tani hadn't yet discovered. The one Mandy would say in reply to the word "afternoon" was a suggestion that the hearers should go and perform some very specific sexual acts on themselves and each other. The one for "evening" was so obscene that Tani blushed for her bird. The response to "morning" was a cheerful request to insert a digit in a difficult place and depart the immediate area. That one was in the Galactic one-speech.

  Tani groaned. Mandy could be retrained but it would take time. If only she'd heard this earlier. But she'd been so busy even on the voyage that she'd spent less time than usual just hanging out talking to Mandy. Her aunt and uncle greeted her with the old Irish phrases. And on a ship using the twenty-four-hour clock and lit all of that time in the main rooms, few people used the terms for times of day. They tended instead to list specific hours. This little surprise had been intended to arrive once they'd landed and talked to locals. Tani said a few words the paraowl hadn't used. If she had that Marten here now she'd teach him something involving boiling oil or anthills.

  She left Mandy where she was. It wasn't her fault and it wasn't fair to make the poor sweet stay inside. Tani would just have to remember to warn Uncle Brion about talking to visitors in front of the bird until Tani had made time to retrain her. She sighed. And that Beast Master still hadn't shown up. She just knew Uncle Brion would want her to provide him with meerkats. More animals he could use up and throw away. His stepfather, or whatever Mr. Quade was, had said the male meerkat had been killed accidentally.

  Tani knew what that meant. It was Beast Master code for "I took a chance and one of the team died instead of me." Her mother had taught her all about it. Of course her mother had been a bit strange on the subject after Tani's father, Bright Sky, was killed. At times she'd left her small daughter quite confused. Tani had the Beast Master gifts, but Beast Masters were bad. Did that make her bad? she'd asked her mother. Alisha had sighed quietly. Having the gift was fine, she'd told her child. It was the training to use the gifts for war that was wrong.

  Tani had seen records. There'd been less than a hundred Beast Masters and teams ever trained. Most of those got themselves killed during the last Xik push against Terra, doing crazy things. It was bad enough for humans to do that
, but they had no right to make animals march into certain death with them.

  Now that the war was over they could all settle down to sharing life again. Animal teams had worked well with Survey as first-in scouts, and with settlers opening up new worlds like Dulshan. She stroked Mandy and smiled. It was nice to think of the paraowls and coyotes on Dulshan. It was their kind of world and the settlers cherished their assistance. She tickled the paraowl's breast feathers, and the powerful beak that could have bitten off a finger as easily as Tani crunched a carrot reached down to nibble her hand affectionately.

  The girl laughed. "I suppose you'd like a lastree nut?" The paraowl gave an affirmative croon. "Hold on. I'll find you one." She left Mandy waiting hopefully and went into the shuttle. There'd been a few of the nuts stored in the supply room there, she was sure. There were and she emerged holding two. With a happy squeak Mandy accepted the first and began to strip the steel-hard husk, a claw revolving it as she worked. Tani leaned against the perch. Mandy was luckier than she knew. Lastrees had been planted in groves on Dulshan as well, which was fortunate, since their original home was no more.

  She glanced up. Almost midday. She'd leave Mandy out here to enjoy the sun. No one would be by until evening and she'd have retrieved bird and perch by then. It sounded as if Uncle Brion was planning to make the Quade ranch their planet headquarters for a while. She'd like that and so would the team. The ranch had horses. It had been almost a year since she'd ridden. Most of the settler planets used horses. They didn't have unobtainable expensive parts to break down. Often other worlds didn't have suitable items that could be used for fuels. Horses replaced themselves and they saw to their own fuel, as she'd said to the Arzoran. Sometimes it took a scientist to tweak horse genes so that the animals were able to live on native grasses, but mostly that could be done easily. According to the records, Arzoran grass was edible by horses without alteration, and horses loved the wide empty lands there. Tani had ridden a lot on Dulshan; it would be fun to ride again on Arzor.