Beast Master's Ark

by Andre Norton; Lyn McConchie

  On the Dumaroy ranch Storm was riding, but not for pleasure. He was weary and dusty, and the harness mare was lagging again. It was blindingly hot and Surra was unhappy about it. They reached the Dumaroy ranch house and the big cat collapsed in the shade. Storm brought her water while Dumaroy was at the comcaller. Storm was watering Baku when the rancher reappeared.

  "They're sending a copter. Kelson is coming to talk to us both personally."

  Storm nodded. Kelson was the right man. He held a loose mandate of liaison between ranchers, Native Protection, and Peace Office these days. It also looked more and more likely that his idea of a Ranger Force to patrol and check the wilder lands was going to be allowed. In which case Storm's younger half-brother, Logan, could be involved. That might keep the boy from infuriating their father so often.

  "When?"

  "Half an hour, he said. We're to wait."

  Storm grunted. He'd spent the ride back thinking hard and he didn't like some of the conclusions. The wild tribes lived out in the Blue. If these whatever-they-were started killing the Nitra's animals or even the Nitra, the wild tribes would be on the move. With nowhere else to go but onto Norbie lands, that would start more trouble than any human had seen in the six generations since landing. The Norbie were the more civilized tribes—but they were fighters. They lived for it, with a regular point system for the hunters of dangerous game—and for warriors.

  Squeezed by Nitra, the Norbie clans could start pressing into rancher-staked lands. Dumaroy and some of his kind would be the first to howl. They'd spent a lifetime blaming the Norbies for everything from missing horses to Yoris lizard attacks. Dumaroy had been proved wrong so often, few but those of like-minded listened anymore. Others would start listening again fast enough if the tribes moved in on their ranches. Storm could see big trouble coming. He'd like to get to that shuttle, talk to the scientists. Apart from any suggestions on the frawn killer, he hoped they might provide mates for the team. In the distance he could hear the copter droning in. He stood to walk to where it would land.

  "Kelson!" Storm shouted his acknowledgement over the noise of the copter.

  "Good to see you, Storm."

  Dumaroy pushed in angrily. "Kelson! You gotta do something about this. There's something out there in the Blue eats frawns." He choked. "And Mirt's kid—he's lying out there, just bones." His voice went hoarse. "How'm I gonna tell Mirt? You gotta do something!"

  "I plan to," the liaison man said quietly. "Just as soon as I have some idea of what that is. Right now I want you to come with me to the camp. We'll pick up what's left of Jarry and you can take him back for Doc Rendel. She may be able to tell us something quickly. Storm, I want to talk to you but not now. I'll swing by the Quade ranch in the morning."

  Dumaroy was already in the copter waiting impatiently. He leaned out as Storm spoke. "Rig, can I borrow the cart. Surra's all in?"

  "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. She did good." He jerked back as the copter's engine started to growl. Kelson called to Storm from his seat in the copter.

  "Forget the cart. There's another copter on the way to collect me. This one will take Jarry's body and Dumaroy straight in to Doc. It'll leave me at the cabin to have a look around. I'll be there in a few hours so the new one can stop off here and take you and the animals back to the ranch first, before it picks me up. I'll tell them to do that while we're on the way."

  Storm's thanks were lost in the noise as the copter lifted. Kelson had arrived in one of the old slow copters. The incoming one would be one of the newer, faster type. Maybe the pilot would drop them at the Basin ranch rather than Storm's own staked lands. He could leave Surra to rest and ride in to the spot where the Ark's shuttle had landed. If he moved fast he could be there by late afternoon. The pilot was willing but at the Basin Brad Quade wanted to discuss all Storm could tell him.

  At last he sat back. "I hate to say it, son. But you're right. If this thing spreads into Nitra territory they'll try moving away from it. That'll start real trouble with the Norbie tribes. If they start getting squeezed, some hothead will begin to look at the ranches. The real problem is that we hold our lands by treaty. The Patrol could argue that the original inhabitants have a better right to the land if it's a matter of survival."

  "Then it's a pity we didn't have a Patrol in the eighteen hundreds," Storm said acidly, remembering ancient Navaho grievances.

  Brad smiled reluctantly. He was part Cheyenne himself. "I know." He glanced at the large ornamental chrono on the wall. "Who knows about this so far?"

  "Not too many, but one of them's Dumaroy."

  "Who's probably on the comcaller right now telling the whole world," Brad said in exasperation.

  Storm shook his head. "He's out with Kelson collecting the body. Kelson will make sure Dumaroy keeps his mouth shut. For a while, at least."

  "Hummm. Yes. Rig made quite a fool of himself over that Xik holdout business. Then he cried wolf over the tribes moving last year."

  "Kelson will remind him of that. Besides, Dumaroy said to me that he couldn't blame the Norbies for this, and I think he meant it."

  "I'm sure he did," Quade nodded. "Until he realizes his ranch could be in danger. Bister led him by the nose during that holdout trouble. Dumaroy's never thought ahead for more than two minutes. He'll make a bad situation worse and wonder how it happened."

  Storm grinned savagely. "Except that Bister isn't around anymore." He stood and stretched. "Nothing we can do right now. Kelson will muzzle Dumaroy for a while. I'll take a horse in the morning and go into the Port, maybe talk to those scientists. There's something strange about how those things kill. I can't make out how they're doing it. Jarry, I can understand, they had him and the horse trapped in the cabin. But how do they kill frawns?"

  Brad nodded thoughtfully. "Soldier ants kill animals that can't move for some reason. They don't hunt them down. If you're right about the tracks Surra followed, those creatures hunted almost like a dog pack. Talk to the scientists about that too."

  "I will. Where's Logan?"

  "Hunting with Gorgol and the Shosonna clan again. He'll be back day after tomorrow. I'll tell him about this then."

  Storm slept poorly. He kept seeing that pathetic heap of bones and wondering what the boy's last minutes had been like. By first light he was riding away. The ranchers almost always used horses on Arzor; fuel for vehicles was imported and very expensive. As his mount plodded down the last slope, Storm saw the port and the Ark's shuttle ahead. He felt on edge still.

  Tani, too, had slept badly. Jarro had criticized her work on the meerkats. Well, not on them so much as the way she'd selected the genes to combine. Uncle Brion had said she should put the dice away. She'd meant to, but with worrying about Mandy she'd forgotten. Jarro had walked in without knocking, stood behind her and seen what she was doing. He'd been pompously unpleasant. He'd implied she only had this job because she was niece to the Ark's departmental heads. It wasn't true. Uncle Brion did run the administration and genetic supply and Aunt Kady was head of research, but Tani did good work. She had preliminary qualifications and had a lot of practice.

  Anyhow, it wasn't as if there were dozens of people on the Ark. There were fewer than twenty and they were always shorthanded now that Marten had gone. Brion and Kady were her only living relatives; it was logical she live and work on the Ark. She paid her way.

  Jarro was a patronizing pig who'd never done anything original or interesting in his whole life. Uncle Brion had said she should keep the dice out of sight, but when a person made a habit of sneaking up and never knocking it wasn't easy. Tani dressed and stamped out of her cabin. She'd put Mandy's perch out and spent time with her team. That would make her feel better.

  She did so and the delight the paraowl displayed made it worthwhile. As Mandy peeled a lastree nut, Tani called the coyotes. She'd take them for a walk away from the ship. Not far, just so they could play with a ball and relax for an hour. But although she enjoyed the game something niggled at her. She really should go
back to work before Jarro managed to walk past and sneer about kids wasting time. She was still feeling unusually ruffled as she rounded the shuttle's side to find a man walking toward the ramp.

  Storm had left his horse at the edge of the port's plascrete apron. He could see the shuttle but had no idea Tani was close by. The port's bustle blanketed her steps and she was hidden by the shuttle as she approached.

  He did see the paraowl. He slowed to look. He'd seen them once or twice at Beast Master training stations. This one was a beautiful specimen.

  He approached it, speaking softly. The bird crooned a reply. Behind him Tani gasped. He had no right to talk to her bird. The way Mandy was responding indicated this could be the Beast Master. The prejudices taught her by her mother surfaced. Without thinking she snapped at him furiously.

  "What are you doing? Leave Mandy alone."

  Storm spun. It had been years since he'd been surprised like that, and his voice was cold with abrupt embarrassment. "I was doing nothing. I wished to speak to someone from the Ark. If you would tell me where I can find them this morning . . ."

  Mandy took her cue, cutting in to deliver her order with disastrous clarity. Storm listened to the words openmouthed. It was too much coming on top of the previous day's tension and a night of little sleep. He rarely laughed aloud, but this time he was unable to help himself—or to stop. It was the result of stress, but Tani had no way of knowing that. In seething silence she removed Mandy from her perch, stamped up the ramp, and paused at the top.

  "I'll tell someone you're here."

  It didn't help that the first person she saw was Jarro. Then an idea came to her. He didn't like settlers. He said they were uncouth and ignorant. She'd teach that man to laugh at her and Mandy. She smiled politely at the pompous young scientist.

  "Jarro, there's a settler wanting to see someone. I suppose he doesn't know to make an appointment. But he's a bit insistent." She saw Jarro draw himself up. "I'm sure he thinks whatever it is must be important and I certainly can't speak for the Ark. Maybe you can talk to him."

  She watched Jarro as he headed for the ramp. That would fix the man. Jarro would be his stuffed-shirt self. The settler wouldn't get anywhere near Uncle Brion or Aunt Kady and he could just go away and laugh at someone else. She left the paraowl on the perch in her cabin and went back to collect the larger outside perch by the ramp. Jarro had managed to wipe the smile off the man's face. She lifted the perch free just as he turned and walked away. Jarro smirked after him.

  "Very sensible of you to have me speak to him, Tani. Imagine. That man expected us to produce mates for his team. He said he was worried over his meerkat. She lost her mate and it distresses him."

  "He is a Beast Master." Tani felt triumphant.

  "So he claimed," Jarro sneered. "He said he should speak to your aunt or uncle. He called them our 'Leaders.' Said there was some kind of unspecified danger here. Some rural rumor, I gathered. I told him they were too busy to listen to idle gossip. No manners, these settlers. He just walked away."

  Jarro followed suit, departing up the ramp to leave Tani looking after the figure in the distance. She felt slightly guilty; perhaps she shouldn't have sicced Jarro onto him. But he shouldn't have laughed, either. She comforted her conscience with the thought that if he really wanted to say something important, he'd be back.

  Right now Storm didn't care if he never saw the Ark or scientists again. He knew Jarro's kind. The sort of person who believed his own work so important, and himself so important for doing it, that no one else was an equal unless they were in the same business. He slowed his steps as he remembered. There'd been that technician in the sealed caves. He'd almost started a war just to prove how great he was. Storm knew better even if genetech Jarro didn't. Brad had found the Ark people pleasant. Storm could return and ask his stepfather to speak to them.

  He recalled the paraowl's comment and the horrified embarrassment on the girl's face. Involuntarily he started to chuckle again. No wonder she'd been furious. Who could have taught the bird that sort of language? Although she'd approached him as an enemy in the first place, he'd seen the way she'd looked at him, as if she guessed he was a Beast Master and thought that Beast Masters were somehow bad. As if she were afraid he'd hurt her paraowl in some way.

  He reached the ranch just as Logan returned. While he greeted his half-brother, then busied himself in admiring Logan's hunting trophies as Logan cared for his weary pony, Storm calmed. He walked inside with Logan to find their father waiting.

  "How did you get on at the Ark?"

  "Not well. I didn't see the Carraldos, only some tech who said they were too busy. Oh, and a girl."

  "That would be their niece. She had her paraowl outside when I was there."

  "They were still there," Storm said, his lips twitching.

  Logan grinned at him. "Share the joke, brother?"

  "Well..."

  Even Brad laughed as the tale ended. Then he sobered. "I'll talk to Carraldo again. I think he might be sympathetic if I can take the ecology unit studies showing meerkats would fit into the niche where the rinces used to be. Having the meerkats breeding wouldn't upset Arzoran ecology. I had the impression he was wavering on mates for Baku and Surra as well. But this Dumaroy trouble is more important. You didn't leave the samples?"

  Storm was frustrated and angry. "I tried to explain about them. The man I spoke to made it clear he thought I was some backwoods idiot jumping at shadows. I asked him to take them and he just said they were all busy."

  Brad looked grave. "I'll go there early tomorrow morning. Kelson is arriving here at first light. I'll com him now for those ecology reports. He can take me onto the shuttle and with him there maybe we can get them to take it seriously."

  Logan glanced up. "Wrong tack, Dad. Think about it. They don't care about your problems. But what are they most interested in?"

  "Genetic materials!" Storm snapped. "And keeping their heads in the sand."

  "Sure, so you get their heads up by hinting this trouble might be some kind of animal unknown to Terran science. New genetic material."

  "On the way back I was thinking about the sealed caves," Storm said slowly. "There was one for plants and one for animals. There could have been one for insects."

  "So. Say that. Get them involved."

  On the other side of the table Brad smiled to himself. At least Storm had lost that tightly controlled look he'd had. The idea was a good one. You always caught scientists' interest with bait in their specialty.

  But they were losing time. He rose quietly. He'd com the liaison man now and make arrangements. Brion had seemed interested in the offer that he and his family should stay on the Quade ranch while they were on Arzor. If the girl liked to ride, then Logan and Storm could take her riding. She could bring her animals.

  A pity she and Storm seemed to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Logan might be more to her liking, as a friend anyhow. They were about the same age, maybe the boy was a year older. He spoke to Kelson briefly before returning to the dining room.

  "Kelson says he'll bring the papers and talk to the Ark. I've asked the Carraldos to stay here. If they agree they may come back tomorrow evening with me. Logan, run a few possible mounts into the corral for the girl to look over. Com the line cabins and tell the Norbies to move the stock further into the Basin. I want the frawn herds closer in case there's trouble. Storm, you'll come with us. Kelson wants you to tell your story and hand over those samples. He agrees with what Logan said. Genetech scientists should jump at the chance to find new material."

  Storm nodded. The one he'd spoken to hadn't jumped, but then he hadn't had it explained to him that way.

  "Yes, Asizi. I'll be ready." And if his medicine was good they'd meet with some scientist other than a pompous idiot or a furious girl.

  Chapter Four

  This time all three of them rode down to the shuttle. Storm riding Rain-on-Dust, his favorite mount, whose sleek coat was a light gray spotted with rich red do
ts like bright coins. Rain's spots were clear on his hard-muscled rump, fading toward the chest, but his mane and tail were the same warm red. Logan rode the tough wiry little black-spots-on-gray pony he preferred, while Brad was on a steady sensible black gelding. Tani saw them coming as she was taking Mandy out to the paraowl's perch again. She recognized Quade and Storm. Hastily she dragged the perch out of position by the ramp and hauled it well away toward a clump of trees some hundred yards from the shuttle entrance.

  That damned Marten. If she could ever get her hands on him she'd do something drastic. It would take weeks to retrain Mandy, and Tani didn't have the time right now. She'd have to find it, though. Aunt Kady had said they could be on Arzor for three months or more, and Tani didn't want to be blushing every single time some local said "good morning" when Mandy was around. She jacked the perch into the hard earth, emptied the water and food bags she'd bought into the perch containers, and turned to walk back to the ramp.

  "Ah!" Her small yelp of surprise made Logan smile at her.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you." He held out a hand. "I'm Logan Quade. Is this your paraowl? Dad said she was beautiful."

  Tani was trying to edge him away from the bird. "Yes, that's Mandy." Please don't let him say the wrong word, she thought.

  Logan stepped around her. "She really is lovely. I heard they can remember long messages and repeat them to specific people, is that true?"

  Again Tani tried to move him along to the ramp. "It's true. They were bred to be messengers in the field when ordinary corns were either jammed or too dangerous to use. They can also double as attack birds, although they don't enjoy the work."