A World of Hurt

by David Sherman

  "Under fire?" Brightly squawked. "I didn't...I didn't hear any gunfire."

  "Acid guns, Lieutenant. They don't make a big bang."

  "Acid guns?" Perturbed, Brightly looked at the island. He hadn't been ashore on Kingdom, but he'd seen trids of the fighting, and saw the remains of some equipment that had been destroyed by Skink weapons in that campaign. "Are you sure there are Skinks on the island?" Fear was clear in his voice.

  Zantith slowly shook his head. "No. What I saw was, some of that flora you're so anxious to study shot acid streamers at my people."

  Brightly swiveled his head toward the Marine. "The flora shot...? But if it was the flora, why did your Marines fire?"

  "Lieutenant, when Marines get shot at, they shoot back." He looked at the island. "Besides, they didn't know it was plants shooting at them."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brigadier Sturgeon leaned back after viewing the last of the naval officers' vids and looked toward President Menno and Minister of the Interior Elbrus. "It looks like you were right in interdicting those valleys," he said to them. "Now you know why interdiction was necessary."

  The two local officials sat unspeaking, stunned. They knew about the existence of hostile, predatory flora on some planets, but they'd never heard of anything like what they'd just seen--and they had no idea hostile fauna existed on their own world.

  Sturgeon didn't share the civilians' shock. He'd had the trid and vids for a full day and had already seen them more than once. As had Commodore Boreland, who came planetside to view them. The two commanders had adjusted to the idea of acid-shooting flora and both were relieved: Sturgeon, because he didn't face losing Marines to the Skink weapons again; Boreland, because he remembered, at the end of the Kingdom Campaign, how he'd turned the Grandar Bay from an amphibious landing ship into a combatant ship, and fought orbital battles around two different planets. He didn't relish the prospect of having to do it again.

  "President Menno, Minister Elbrus," Boreland said after a couple moments of silence, "I will have my people make a copy of those for you. You have adventurous young people who like to go into places no one has gone before. They should watch these vids, which should discourage them from going into the interdicted valleys."

  Menno nodded absently, but Elbrus spoke up with hard-edged anger.

  "Why didn't BEHIND tell us about this?" he demanded. "Why isn't there anything in the planetary records about it?"

  "Well, sir," Sturgeon said, "the way station here had been in operation for--how long, a generation?--before BEHIND made its investigation. I can only assume that since there hadn't been any serious problems in all that time, they thought Maugham's Station didn't need anything more than the most cursory examination before opening it up for colonization." He shrugged. "When they see these, they might decide to come back for a closer look."

  "Y-You're going to report this to them?" Menno stammered.

  Sturgeon shook his head. "No, I'll make my report to Headquarters, Marine Corps, as Commodore Boreland will make his to the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations. It'll be up to them to make the decision to forward the report to BEHIND. Actually, I rather thought you would make the report."

  Menno and Elbrus looked at each other for a moment, then the President said, "I think leaving it to us is a very good idea."

  Sturgeon saw the way they'd looked at each other and knew they wouldn't make any report on the hostile flora to BEHIND--they were afraid that Maugham's Station would lose its Certification of Suitability for Human Habitation, and they'd have to abandon the world they'd spent their lives turning into home. But that was their decision, and he wouldn't tell them what they had to do. Sooner or later, if there were reports of continuing deaths, BEHIND's sluggish bureaucracy would notice and send a new team to investigate Maugham's Station. Maybe they'd force the colonists to abandon their world, and maybe they wouldn't. But that was neither his problem nor Boreland's.

  But to satisfy his own curiosity, as well as to assist the people of Maugham's Station, Boreland assigned all of his life sciences people to work with local scientists for a week to conduct a brief study of the flora of one of the hidden valleys in which people had died.

  What they found was remarkable.

  They knew that the flora was carnivorous and no animal life seemed to be extent in the isolated valleys, so the mission into the valley within the Salainen Mountains--where two young lovers had been killed and devoured by the flora--was commanded by Lieutenant Brightly, the Grandar Bay's senior xenobotanist. President Menno and Minister of the Interior Elbrus were happy to let the navy take charge of the scientific expedition--after a fashion.

  "Certainly, Admiral," President Menno said, "I'll be happy to lend the resources of Ammon's entire scientific community to assist the navy in conducting a survey of an interdicted valley's life-forms. I'll instruct Dr. Soma to give you and the general every assistance she can."

  As unaccustomed as he was to being called "Admiral," Boreland didn't bat an eye at the title. After all, he was a flag officer. "Dr. Soma is...?" he asked.

  "Osa Soma," Elbrus said sourly. "She's our chief xenobiologist. Ammon's foremost authority on native life-forms."

  "Thank you, Mr. President," Boreland said graciously, though he didn't imagine Ammon's "foremost authority on native life-forms" knew any more about the flora of the valleys than his own people.

  "We should coordinate security measures between your people and mine," Brigadier Sturgeon said.

  The corner of Elbrus's mouth twitched; he disapproved of anyone entering the interdicted valleys under any circumstances, but he'd been overruled by the President and the legislature. He said, "My Director of Public Safety is too busy with other matters. But I can have his deputy, Casper Bilisi, work with you."

  Sturgeon knew why Elbrus wouldn't assign his top security person to work with the Marines, and thought he was incredibly shortsighted about the matter, but he didn't let that show on his face or in his voice. "Thank you, Mr. Minister. My people who have already worked with him speak highly of his abilities."

  Lieutenant Brightly was even more excited than at the island in the Haltia valley. The Salainen valley was untouched, and this time he knew what he was looking for--not to mention the dangers.

  In addition to Brightly, the scientific team consisted of Ensign Szelt and five enlisted life science technicians off the Grandar Bay, and four local scientists led by Dr. Osa Soma. One of the other local scientists was Dr. Kara Kum, the first assistant coroner. Dr. Soma selected her because she had the most local experience with the effects on the human body of the carnivorous life-forms in the valleys, and because she had experience working with the off-worlders.

  Security was provided by three police officers from the Ammon Department of Public Safety, and Company L's third platoon. The police were in nominal command of security, but everybody understood they were going along merely for form's sake; the Marines were really responsible for everyone's safety.

  Second squad went over the saddle first and set markers fifty meters from the edge of the forest on the valley floor. They knew, from K Company's island experience, that the flora could shoot its acid streamers at least forty meters, and tacked on an extra ten as a safety margin. Everyone was wearing Marine chameleons festooned with nonchameleon streamers for visibility, but the Marines didn't trust the locals--or even the navy personnel--to keep their acid-proofed clothing buttoned up, so they insisted on the safety margin and intended to enforce it.

  Corporal Rachman Claypoole checked his men's positions for what must have been the ten thousandth time since they finished setting out the markers to limit how close the scientists could get to the forest edge. Lance Corporals MacIlargie and Schultz were right where he'd put them, just as they'd been each of the other ten thousand times he'd checked. Could it really have been ten thousand times? He looked at the time; they'd only been in position for an hour, so he couldn't have checked their positions that often. But it sure felt like it.
They were just upslope from the markers, little more than fifty meters from the edge of the forest. Was that far enough? Nobody was sure how far those vines could spew acid.

  He slid his magnifier and light gatherer screens into place and peered into the forest edge, looking for the maws of vine ends. Were any of them moving to aim his way? Were any of them pointed in his direction? Were any pulsing, getting ready to spray him with acid? How far away could they sense their targets anyway?

  The vines he saw lay limp and unmoving, the way ground-trailing vines should. And the vines that dangled from tree branches did just that, dangled.

  He shook himself and wondered why he was so skittery, acting like Corporal Doyle. After all, his chameleons would protect him from acid.

  Then he looked at his men for the 10,001st time, just to make sure they hadn't edged closer to the forest.

  Wolfman MacIlargie's screens were all up, exposing his amused expression as he watched the scientists gather floral specimens from the area they were allowed into. Festooned as he was with colored streamers to make him visible to the scientists and local police, he looked odd. He lounged with his back to the forest. Every now and then he'd clear his throat and glare pointedly at a scientist who looked about to wander past the markers. The scientists always seemed resentful, but they always changed direction and stayed in the area the Marines declared safe.

  On Claypoole's other side, Hammer Schultz sat with his knees up and his arms resting across them, his blaster held crosswise in both hands. He faced the forest and never bothered looking at the scientists. He seemed relaxed, but there was an undercurrent of tension about him that made the scientists keep their distance. Schultz didn't expect an attack by the forest flora, but he was ready to fight back if an attack came.

  At the other end of the protective line, Corporal Joe Dean was much more relaxed. He hadn't seen, experienced, or heard anything to make him think the vines could spray any farther than fifty meters--and he had full confidence in his chameleons.

  If some of the scientists gave him dirty looks when he shooed them back from the markers, well, he couldn't blame them. They were excited about investigating unique life-forms. He imagined he'd be excited too, if he were any kind of xenobiologist.

  Instead of fretting about the potential dangers around them, Dean wondered when they'd get to the experiment the scientists planned to run.

  A few hours later, Ensign Charlie Bass began wondering the same thing.

  "Mr. Brightly," Bass said when he neared the navy officer. "I thought you said you scientists were just collecting a few samples." He looked at the slope the scientists had been gathering from; there was noticeably less greenery on it than there had been earlier, and the scientists and technicians were still digging and bagging.

  Brightly beamed at him. "Oh, but we are, Mr. Bass," he said. "It's just that we want to make sure we've got a sample of every life-form. And the navy needs them as well as the locals, so..." He looked around and saw how much barer the slope was, and added a bit sheepishly, "I guess it does look like we're taking quite a lot, doesn't it?" He looked downslope at the forest, then up to where the major experiment waited, out of sight on the other side of the saddle. "Maybe we should stop for a bit and compare what we've got. We probably have some duplicates."

  "That sounds like a good idea, Mr. Brightly," Bass said drily.

  In a few minutes all the scientists and techs, navy and civilian, were gathered, examining each others' samples. They did have quite a few duplicates, and some trading went on until each group had at least one sample of everything they'd collected.

  The scientists wanted to continue working, and objected when Bass ordered a meal break, but the Marine insisted and they acquiesced--especially when their technicians made it plain they also wanted a meal break and were going to take one.

  The sun was halfway down the western sky by the time the meal was finished and its trash picked up and stored for proper disposal outside the isolated valley.

  On an order from Dr. Kara Kum, the major experiment was brought into the valley. A transport scoot was driven over the saddle and onto the valley's inner slope. The techs unloaded several multispectrum trid and vid cameras and briskly set them up, ignoring the supervision provided by the scientists. Once the techs were satisfied with the siting of the cameras and other recording devices, Lieutenant Brightly told Bass they were ready to commence.

  Bass and Staff Sergeant Hyakowa inspected Brightly, Kum, and the two techs--both navy petty officers--who were going to set the experiment in place. Then, satisfied that the quartet going to the edge of the forest was properly sealed into the chameleons, Bass gave the go-ahead.

  Brightly raced to board the scoot before the petty officer who had driven it into the valley; he wanted to drive it himself. Not that he had far to go--no more than seventy-five meters to the spot at the forest edge where they'd decided to set up.

  "Wait!" Bass roared as Brightly started the scoot--Bass didn't want him to reach the forest edge before the others. But Brightly ignored the warning and sped the scoot downslope full throttle, jouncing and bouncing along the way. He was going so fast when he reached the forest that he had to twist the controls all the way over and slid sideways into a tree. The impact was hard enough to knock him off the scoot and jarred a loud squeal out of the scoot's cargo, a crate a meter and a half long, a meter high, and a meter wide, with holes cut in its sides.

  Bass ran to him, along with Kara Kum and the two techs. Bass got there first.

  Brightly lay on his back, grinning inanely up at Bass when the Marine knelt over him to check for injuries. "I'm not hurt," he said, and began to sit up.

  "You'll get up when I say you can," Bass snarled, and pushed him back down. He hurriedly checked for cuts, broken bones, and torn muscles without finding any obvious injuries. Then he checked the chameleon's integrity. "Now you get up." Bass grabbed him by the front of his shirt and jerked him to his feet. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

  Other than a brief yelp when he was yanked to his feet, Brightly made no objection to being manhandled. "That was fun!" he exclaimed, still grinning.

  "Everybody, keep moving," Bass shouted. "We don't know how long it takes for the vines to react."

  "Let's get out of here." Dr. Kum's voice came from behind Bass. "We're done."

  He turned around. One of the techs was starting the scoot, and Kum and the other tech were already on it. He grabbed Brightly by the shoulder and shoved him at the scoot. As they rode away, he looked back at the experiment. A seventy-five kilogram hog, watching the scoot depart, strained at a strong lead that anchored it to a tree trunk.

  The hog stopped straining after a few moments and began to root around for something interesting to eat. It snorted and snuffled, spat out something it didn't like, then settled down and lay on its side, ribs rising and falling steadily with its breathing.

  Nothing happened for three full minutes, and the hog seemed to be sleeping quietly. Suddenly, it lifted its head and looked into the forest. Then its head jerked to the side and it looked in a different direction. It scrambled to its feet and faced the forest, leaning toward whatever had caught its attention, swiveling its head from side to side.

  The Marines flinched--and a third of them went prone with their blasters in their shoulders--when a streamer of viscous, greenish fluid arced from the ground ten meters to the hog's right and splashed over its back and side. The hog jumped and twisted, squealing in pain, but before it could pull away, two more streamers struck home, staggering it. Its loud squeals were cut off when a gout of acid spattered on its face, covering its snout. The hog arched its back, as though it was about to buck, but went rigid for a moment before it thudded onto its side.

  Nothing more happened for several minutes, then thin vines rose nearly half a meter into the air and flopped down onto the hog. A few dangling vines began rocking back and forth, as though a child not yet big enough to swing them was trying to. The dangling vines twisted and kink
ed, but soon reached the carcass, where they straightened and their ends fastened themselves to the hog's hide. Other movement was too slow to see with the naked eye, but later became evident in the time-lapse images: low-lying flora crept toward the carcass and punctured its skin with delicate shoots. In little more than an hour, the hog's body was covered by a living mat of fibers and vines.

  They left the hog in place for a week while it was slowly devoured. They set up cameras closer to it, to record the plants' activities at closer range, but none of the close-in cameras lasted more than a half hour before being attacked by jets of acid from the vines and assaulted by what the scientists came to call "second wave" carnivores. The scientists and techs themselves moved in for occasional closer looks, but Charlie Bass refused to allow any of them to stay close for more than a minute or two, and enforced a one-hour interval between approaches to the forest edge.

  The only mishap occurred when a local was too intent on a tendril that was slowly wriggling its way into a break in the hog's hide. When he refused to back away from the forest edge after being told to, he was hit by two streamers of acid before Marines could drag him out of range. He had to be evacuated for medical attention because he hadn't completely sealed his protective chameleons and a few drops of acid seeped through his shirt to eat at his belly.

  After that, the scientists withdrew from the forest edge more quickly when Bass called, "Time's up."

  They stayed for a week, cataloging the numerous plants that directly fed on the carcass. The leaves of some plants flopped onto the flesh and absorbed its fluids through osmosis; others injected tendrils into soft tissues; yet others drilled tendrils through bones to get at the marrow, or leached minerals from the bones.

  Lieutenant Brightly and the other scientists and techs from the Grandar Bay would have spent months studying the flora of the valley, but Commodore Boreland decided they'd gathered enough information to pass on to the Office of the CNO and ordered them back to orbit. Brigadier Sturgeon was in full accord with Boreland, especially after Ensign Bass assured him the local scientists had developed sufficient respect for predatory plants to be allowed to continue their work without Marine security.