by David Drake
“Easy for you to say,” Merikur replied caustically, “since you never feel pain.” There was silence for a moment as Merikur put a bandage on the wound.
When the AID replied, there was a hint of sadness in his words. “What you say is true . . . but I never experience pleasure either.”
Merikur considered that as he popped a pain pill and returned the first-aid kit to the pack. “That’s only partly true. While you can’t experience physical pleasure, nothing stops you from enjoying the other kinds.”
“What other kinds?”
Merikur rummaged around for something which didn’t require water since there wasn’t any nearby and he wasn’t about to go looking. He found a high-energy ration bar. “The cerebral pleasures.”
“For example?”
Merikur took a bite. The ration bar was chewy and slightly sweet. “For example, the way you feel when I ignore your advice and wind up in trouble as a result.”
“Like taking the aircar and traveling alone?”
Merikur grimaced. “Yes, like taking the aircar and traveling alone.”
“Oh,” the AID said. Then after a moment’s thought it added, “You know, you’re right! That does feel good! Thanks.”
Combat knife in his right hand, Merikur curled up in a ball and awkwardly pulled dead leaves over himself, more for insulation than camouflage. “You’re welcome. Okay, sleepless wonder, you have the perimeter watch. If anything approaches, I want to know about it.”
“No problem. Good night.”
“Good night,” Merikur replied and, in spite of the mysterious noises all around him, fell quickly asleep.
###
Merikur awoke to the sound of distant thunder. For a moment, that was the only sound that disturbed the jungle’s early morning silence; the next, it was filled with the sound of rain against a billion leaves.
Within minutes, it had dripped, gurgled, and sloshed all around him then collected in the bottom of his hollow and drove him out. Small, eellike creatures oozed out of the mud to flop and slither as the rain turned the hollow into a temporary pond. When the rain stopped and the pond was absorbed into the earth, they would go with it, estivating until the next downpour.
“Good thing I’m waterproof,” his AID said.
By now, Merikur was soaked to the skin. “Yes,” he replied dryly. “Thank God for that.” Spotting a huge plant with broad leaves, he squished his way over and stood in front of it. “If I take shelter will it eat me?”
“Nope. Go for it.”
Merikur stepped under the plant’s leaves and out of the rain. He looked around. “Which way is home?”
The quickness of the answer told him the AID had already considered the matter. “You have two choices. You can head west on foot, which will improve your chances of going undetected, or you can head north. If you head north you’ll hit a mining road about thirty miles from here. Both the Haiken Maru and the rebels use the road, so the chances of discovery rise dramatically. On the other hand, the chances of hitching a ride into Port City also rise dramatically, which would cut five or six days off the trip.”
Merikur considered his alternatives. The safer route was a lot safer. He’d be damned hard to find in the middle of all that jungle. But there was the time factor to consider. He needed to get back as soon as possible. God knows what might happen in his absence. Someone had arranged for him to die. Who?
The rebels were an obvious choice, but the aircar had been supplied by the Haiken Maru, so they were suspect, too. But why would they want him dead when he was ostensibly there to protect company interests?
There were too many questions and too few answers, but one thing was clear: if someone wanted him out of the way, time was of the essence. He decided to go for the road and rely on his skill and good luck to get him through. And while luck was a problematic factor, his skills were not inconsiderable. Like all officers, Merikur had been through an extensive survival course at the Academy and numerous refreshers since graduation.
One of the things they’d taught him was to improvise.
He used his combat knife to lop some leaves off the plant, piling them at his feet. Cutting some lengths of mono-filament line from the reel in his survival kit, he overlapped the leaves like the shingles on a shake roof, then tied them together to make a crude rain cape. A conical leaf hat completed his new outfit. He stepped out into the rain. His new gear leaked a little, but it was better than nothing.
So far so good. Glancing around, he saw a thicket of eight-foot sticks topped by frothy purplish foliage. Stepping close to the thicket so the AID could use all its sensors, Merikur asked, “How ’bout this one?”
The AID was silent for a moment before replying. “I suggest you throw something at it first.”
Kicking into the forest detritus, Merikur found a rock. He pried it up and saw all sorts of little things go skittering in every direction. But he wasn’t that hungry. Not yet. Checking to make sure none had adhered to the underside of the rock, he chucked it into the thicket.
To his amazement, one of the rigid sticks suddenly collapsed into a seven-foot snake. Coiling in on itself, a deadly looking head emerged from a collar of purplish skin and darted this way and that, seeking either food or foe—or both. Seeing neither through its single, apparently nearsighted eye, it slithered away.
Merikur watched it go and shook his head in amazement. “Good suggestion.”
Stepping up to the thicket, he selected a sturdy-looking shaft and cut it off near the ground. He trimmed the foliage and tied his combat knife to one end with the mono-filament. A spear, as any caveman can tell you, beats the hell out of a knife. Why stick something from up close and intimate when you can do it from six or seven feet away? Not to mention the additional leverage a spear provides.
Deciding to delay breakfast until the rain had stopped, Merikur glanced at his compass and headed north. Within a single rotation of the planet, he’d been reduced from a general with starships at his command to a lonely, leaf-clad spear chucker. He’d had better days.
Chapter 8
As Jomu allowed his gaze to drift down across the computer screen, his mouth turned upwards in disapproval. All the reports agreed. Things weren’t going well. Yes, his forces continued to control the countryside; yes, there was less and less money flowing into Haiken Maru coffers; but there was a long list of reverses as well.
The marines were in control of Port City, their firebase on the outskirts of town was too strong for his forces, and their leader was unusually competent for a human.
Making matters even worse was news of a mysterious Cernian who, if rumor could be believed, served as an advisor to the new governor and who had disappeared into the jungle. Who was he? And more importantly, where was he and what was he doing?
If the stranger were part of the Cernian faction favoring a hardline with the Pact—Jomu’s faction—he would have come announced. Was he instead soliciting Pact support among the miners? If so he might just get it.
Some Cernians continued to cling to the foolish hope that humans would change their ways and allow Cernia full membership in the Pact. Jomu coughed a laugh. That would be the day.
Well, time would tell. In spite of the marines, Teller was almost in the rebels’ grasp. In a few more days, a week at most, Jomu’s fingers would close on the planet and never let go.
He heard a floorboard creak as Varek shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He’d been standing at attention in Jomu’s makeshift office for half a zek now and should be quite penitent. Jomu found it useful to keep his subordinates waiting. Especially when they’d performed as poorly as Varek had. The idiot had walked away from a dead—he’d better have been dead!—human officer without even searching the body.
A heavily armed patrol was already on its way to the ambush site. Who knew what data or device the human might have had about his person?
Raising his eyes from the computer screen, Jomu looked at Varek as if viewing a guwat. In truth, Varek
wasn’t a bad-looking specimen. His homemade combat harness gleamed with polish and his body was broad and muscular. At the moment, his eyes were focused respectfully on Jomu’s right ear. Only equals engaged in mutual eye-to-eye contact.
“So,” Jomu began. “A moron stands before me. Or is it a coward who runs from dead humans?”
“Yes, Father. I mean no, Father,” Varek stammered, his leathery features wrinkled with misery. “I am a fool, but no coward.”
For a moment, Jomu said nothing, allowing the silence to build. Then, “I agree. You are a fool but no coward. Therefore, you may live. But you are hereby stripped of all status. In addition to any other duties you may be judged competent to perform, you will make yourself available for all extra labor details for a period of one year. Return to your unit.”
“Yes, Father. Thank you, Father.” Varek did a smart about-face and marched towards the door. A year of K.P. was a lot less punishment than he had feared.
As Varek left, a com tech entered. She was no escapee from a mining camp, but a Cernian regular smuggled in three months before. She was extremely competent. The fact that she was also quite attractive was an added bonus. She snapped to attention.
Jomu waved a hand. “Save it for the troops, Jund. What have you got?” He expected a smile but didn’t get one. Bad news then.
“The patrol reported in a few bix ago, Father. They found the aircar and the graves. But no sign of a human body.”
Jomu’s massive fist crashed down so hard the computer console jumped. “He’s still alive! Alert all units. I want this human found, and I want him found now.”
###
The rain had stopped, and from the level of ambient light Merikur guessed that the sun was at zenith. But he had a problem. The river was full and fast, running up to the edge of its banks where it lapped at his boots. Wavelets splashed his toes occasionally as if inviting him to jump in so that it could sweep him away. Since he had to get across, that left the log.
Months before, a raging storm had caused the river to flood, undermining a huge tree and causing it to keel over. The trunk now formed an impromptu bridge across the river. The only such bridge he’d been able to find in a five-mile section of riverbank. It stretched before him like a shining path to hell.
Spray leaped up to make its smooth surface even slicker and the log dipped a little ways out, allowing the river to roll over the top. But it was either the log or what might turn out to be a long, long detour.
First, however, he took the spear apart and restored the combat knife to its sheath. Otherwise, he’d lose it if he fell in. He checked to make sure the survival kit was securely fastened to his back. For a moment, he debated whether to walk or crawl. Both had advantages. In the end, he decided to walk and drop to his knees if it became necessary. Using the roots as a staircase, he made his way up and onto the log.
Gingerly, Merikur moved out onto its smooth surface. He slid his left foot forward, then his right. So far so good. The river leaped, jumped and chuckled at his feet, daring him to move forward, laughing at his caution. Using his staff as a counterbalance, Merikur ignored the river’s insinuating laughter and concentrated on the stretch ahead.
It was the bad section, where the tree trunk swooped down towards the river and water rolled over the top. Bit by bit, Merikur eased down the incline. The water had little force where it sloshed across the top, so the main danger lay in slipping.
Edging his way through the water, Merikur started up the opposite slope. By climbing sideways and using the non-skid surface of his combat boots, he made his way up the slope; first a third of the way, then halfway, then almost there.
That’s when the two-person hovercraft roared around the bend and came straight at him.
It had not occurred to Merikur, until he flipped over backwards and was immediately sucked under the water, that his entry into the river would be a voluntary act.
The first sensation was shock as the cold water closed around him. Then he felt fear as the river dragged him down, bouncing him along the bottom. What saved him was training. Suddenly, he was a cadet standing at the edge of the computer-controlled river which flowed through the Academy’s huge campus, shivering in the morning chill. In front of him, the river was smooth and calm, but just a few hundred yards downstream, white water gleamed and churned its way through artificial rapids, smoothing out again further on down. Each cadet would have to jump in and make it through those rapids.
He remembered Nidifer’s sadistic grin. Nidifer was more machine than man, one of the few survivors of the famous Ferro Drop. Five thousand marines had fallen through Ferro’s noxious atmosphere to fight in the crystalline forests below. Less than a hundred survived. Those who did were the toughest, meanest, and luckiest people alive. A fact Nidifer never let them forget. As if his face wasn’t reminder enough. The single glaring eye, the gouged-out cheeks, the rasping voice, all were constant reminders that this man had been through hell and fought his way out.
So when Nidifer spoke, it was with the voice of authority. “You cretins will be glad to hear that this course has only killed five cadets so far.”
He held up a gleaming pincer to still any objection. “Yes, I realize this course it too easy, but so far Academy Command has ignored my requests to make it more challenging.” His expression brightened.
“You could kill yourself by forgetting these simple rules however: One. Do not fight the river. Two. Hit the boulders with your feet instead of your head. Three. Work your way to the side where the current is weaker. Four. Don’t panic. Think instead. Questions, ladies and gentlemen?”
Nidifer’s single eye swept their naked ranks like a laser. “No? Then how about you, Cadet Merikur? Since shit floats, you shouldn’t have any trouble at all.”
The river pushed Merikur up, gave him one quick gulp of air, and then jerked him back down. Twisting and turning, he managed to bring his feet around and point them downriver.
He hit the first boulder. His boots felt as if they weighed a ton apiece, but they helped absorb the shock. Flexing his knees with each impact, he bounced off two more rocks before the current brought him back to the surface. Gulping air, he saw the hovercraft waiting down river.
This time he ducked under the surface on purpose.
The rapids were past now, but the river narrowed slightly as it entered a huge rock formation and this made the water move even faster. Feeling the main current to his left, Merikur slid into it and was pulled quickly downstream.
His lungs began to burn, demanding that he open his mouth and take the river in. To hell with the hovercraft. He had to breathe. Fighting his way to the surface, Merikur took a deep, gasping breath.
The river tired of its human toy and tossed him aside. The current disappeared and he was swimming in a side eddy. Something bumped him from behind. Turning, he saw he’d been pushed into an alcove of rock carved by a million years of running water.
There was a roar over and above the roar of the river. Kicking, he pushed himself back into the alcove just as the hovercraft slid into view.
It held two Cernians. Both were scanning the surface of the river looking for him. Keeping low, Merikur ducked behind a spur of rock. They searched the area for ten minutes, coming within twenty feet of him on one occasion, before finally giving up and heading downriver.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Merikur swam along the rock face until it gave way to a small gravelly beach. Gratefully, he crawled out and lay shivering on the warm rocks.
“Well, it was probably the longest river crossing in the history of the corps, but you finally made it. Congratulations.”
Merikur would have pulled the AID off his belt and smashed it with a rock, but he didn’t have the strength. He ignored the device and crawled into the jungle for a rest.
###
It took him three days to cover the thirty miles from the crash site to the dirt road. It wasn’t much fun. Once in a while, he found a game trail going vaguely north and could follow it fo
r a while, but most of the time, he wasn’t that lucky and had to make his own way through the jungle maze.
There were countless streams and rivers to cross, torrential storms to wait out, and swamps to circumnavigate. He had close calls with specimens of a hundred nasty life forms, some native to Teller, and some brought in by the Haiken Maru to make the jungle even more unpleasant. The latter were an unnecessary expenditure of effort in Merikur’s opinion.
The least difficult to deal with were the broad-leafed Cernian Nakada plants. Though not fatal to humans, contact with the plants could produce some very unpleasant symptoms and Merikur had enough problems already.
Of more concern were the Terran fer-de-lance, the Noolu night cat, and the Corvall death disk.
The latter had an uncanny ability to masquerade as a giant leaf. From its perch twenty or thirty feet up, the death disk would watch a path below, waiting for something to pass by. Spotting a target, the disk would spin down from above to slap itself across nose and mouth, a thousand little suckers holding it firmly in place. As its prey slowly suffocated, the creature would start to feed, sucking its victim’s bodily fluids until it transformed itself into a green ball. Sated, it would release its grip and roll away from the now desiccated corpse to digest its meal. Three months later, it would shrink to a disk once more and begin the long torturous journey back up into the trees.
The first attack had come with mind-numbing swiftness. Only the disk’s poor luck saved Merikur. The creature slapped itself across his nose and eyes, missing his mouth. Merikur gripped an edge and ripped the death disk off before it could lock itself in place. Throwing it down, he impaled it with his spear.
After that, Merikur constructed a wickerwork mask that fit over his head. Without knowing it, he had reinvented the masks worn by Corvall’s primitive bipeds. It was damned uncomfortable but worth it.