"Honored Chief Councilor, they had no females among them to build nests for. They raised only one tree, a covering over a shallow pit for their leader."
Cheerpt snaked his head close enough to Kkaacgh's throat that a twitch would draw blood, before he stretched his own upward. "How do you know your scouts reported true?"
"Because I went there myself and saw it with my own eyes, Honored Captain of the Guards. I report what I know to be truth, not what my scouts wish me to believe."
Graakaak crowed out a laugh. Kkaacgh was not acting like the most junior member of this council, he was handling himself quite well. He plucked a pebble from his perch without looking and tossed it to the Head of Scouts. Kkaacgh snagged it and held it admiringly before his eyes before popping it into his mouth to let it ripple down the length of his throat.
Graakaak made his decision. "Oouhoouh," he commanded, "arm a hundred warriors, twenty of the Guards and eighty others, with Clumsy Ones' weapons. Cheerpt, you will lead the raid. Bring me fifty tail-nubs. Kkaacgh, you will personally scout for the raiders. Do it."
The Chief of Staff, Captain of the Guards, and Head of the Scouts hopped off the perch and bounded out of the high tent.
Chief Councilor Tschaah lowered his head and cocked it, the better to look at the High Chief. "Graakaak," he said in a voice pitched low enough so it wouldn't carry to the guards arrayed around the perimeter of the High Tree, "is that a wise thing to do at this time? The Aawk-vermin may not be armed as well as we are, but there are many times more of them in their rookeries than there are of us in our one rookery. I know that warrior by warrior they are no match for the Cheereek, but they could overwhelm us by sheer numbers."
Graakaak flashed a look of anger at the old councilor, then crowed out in joy once more. "Kkaacgh did not say all he knew. The Aawk-vermin have more than one hunting party out. After we kill this one, we will kill the next and the next and the next, one at a time. By the time the Aawk-vermin realize they are under attack, they will have lost hundreds of warriors. They will not then have the numbers to overwhelm us. Soon, the entire world will tremble at the name of Graakaak!
"Leave me now. Have my eeookk prepared. I wish to watch my warriors kill with the Clumsy Ones' weapons."
Kkaacgh sat proudly on his eeookk as it galumphed through the rivulets, rifts, and dry gullies of the steppe. For Graakaak to pick him to personally scout for this raid was a singular honor. It clearly demonstrated that he was Head of Scouts of the Cheereek because of ability, not because his father was clutchmate of the High Chief. And he knew the honor was deserved. This was his land. He'd lived in it his entire life, and prowled its contours ever since he grew large enough to slip out of his parents' nest and roam on his own. He chuckled at the memory. He wasn't even fully fledged when he made his first foray onto the ground. Oh, how his clutchmates had hammered at him when he clambered back into the nest, trying to keep him out so more of the food their parents brought back would be shoved down their greedy gullets. But he was proud even then, and strong—though he wasn't the largest in the clutch. He had tweed mightily and pecked and pecked and driven his clutchmates back from the edge of the nest to make space for him. When a parent returned soon after with food, Kkaacgh's was the first gullet to be filled.
Now he galumphed a short distance ahead of the hundred warriors sent to kill the Aawk-vermin hunters who dared encroach on the lands of the Cheereek. The Aawk-vermin did not know this land. They would look across it and see it flat as far as their eyes could see. But Kkaacgh knew the land, every ripple and irregularity of it. He knew he could lead the war party unseen and so close to the Aawk-vermin hunting camp that they could not miss when they shot their Clumsy Ones' weapons into the camp. He looked back over his shoulder and saw the way Cheerpt sat his eeookk at the head of the vee of warriors, and knew the Captain of the Guards would not be content to kill the Aawk-vermin from ambuscade, but would attack in proper manner. Kkaacgh crowed out a cry of ecstasy.
When the Cheereek warriors attacked, he would also attack, even though he didn't have a Clumsy Ones' weapon. There was no prohibition against the Head of Scouts also being a warrior.
Aaaah had been halfway up the skyroad when Graakaak gave his orders, and nearly at the top by the time the war party set out. Aaaah was getting close to the bottom of the other side of the skyroad when Kkaacgh reined his eeookk and waited for Cheerpt to join him. In the near distance he could hear the cries and gobbles the Aawk-vermin made as they ate and prepared their night-roost. He stretched his neck up when Cheerpt reached him but didn't lift his head; that obesience was reserved for the High Chief. He nodded toward the cries of the Aawk-vermin.
Cheerpt listened for a moment, then asked, "Over the rise?"
"Around that bend, then over the rise." Kkaacgh pointed to where the gully they followed turned to the left.
Cheerpt twisted around on his eeookk and made a series of signals with his arm and neck. The war party would proceed quietly around the bend. When all were in place, they would attack over it. Kkaacgh held back a crow of pleasure; the plan seemed perfect.
"Lead on," Cheerpt ordered.
Kkaacgh kneed his eeookk and the animal trotted forward. Cheerpt and the warriors followed. In moments the hundred-Cheereek war party was around the bend in the gully, facing the rise beyond which lay the hunting camp of the Aawk-vermin.
Cheerpt craned his neck to both sides and, satisfied that all were ready, held his Clumsy Ones' weapon above his head for a few seconds, then swept it forward.
As one, the hundred Cheereek warriors shrieked their war cries and heeled their mounts into a headlong charge up the side of the gully, holding their Clumsy Ones' weapons onehanded, pointed ahead of them. The eeookks' claws dug gouts from the hard dirt, screeched against rock. Their excited brays added to the cacophony. Kkaacgh shrieked his cry with them and joined the charge, wielding his stabbing-spear the way the warriors did their Clumsy Ones' weapons.
The Aawk-vermin hunters were caught by surprise, even the half-dozen warriors traveling with the party as guards were away from their posts getting ready for night-roost. The ragged line of Cheereek galumphed through the encampment, their Clumsy Ones' weapons cracking thunder, belching fire and smoke. The Aawk-vermin screamed in panic and ran about seeking safety. Some of them staggered and fell under the impact of the randomly flying bullets from the rifles, some collided with one another or tripped over carelessly placed camp gear, to be trampled and rent under the feet and claws of the charging eeookks. One eeookk screamed in shocked pain when its rider sent it through a still-smoldering cookfire and flung about the glowing coals.
Kkaacgh leaned low over the shoulder of his eeookk and thrust his stabbing-spear at the back of a fleeing Aawk-vermin hunter. He threw his head high and crowed in victory when the point of his weapon slammed through its target. He jerked the spear free and held it high for all to see the blood and gore that dripped down it. Then he lowered his head and looked for another target.
Past the encampment, Cheerpt jerked hard on his eeookk's reins, causing the animal to flail its stubby wings as it skidded and spun around. He crowed with glee at the sight that met his eyes. Most of the Aawk-vermin were down. Some of the downed still shivered with life, but most lay twitching in new death. A very few remained on their feet. He lifted his Clumsy Ones' weapon to his shoulder and looked along its barrel, the way the Clumsy Ones had taught him. When the barrel was lined up with a running Aawk-vermin, he squeezed the trigger. He crowed when the fleeing hunter pitched forward and lay spasming as death took him. Cheerpt looked around. His warriors were running down the last of the Aawk-vermin. In another moment it was over, and the Cheereek warriors shrieked victory cries.
On a slight rise in the middle distance, Graakaak sat tall on his eeookk and watched the brief and one-sided fight. When the last of the Aawk-vermin fell, he heeled his eeookk into full galumph toward the encampment.
The warriors stopped gathering the meat cured by the hunters when Graakaak, accompanied by Chief of
Staff Oouhoouh and a party of guards, reached the encampment. They gathered in a semicircle in front of the High Chief, separated from him by the line of guards.
"Cheerpt," Graakaak said, "did the Clumsy Ones' weapons perform satisfactorily?"
"They did, High Chief," Cheerpt replied, neck stretched full up, face pointed at the heavens.
"I watched. You all did well." Graakaak swung his head in an arc to look at each warrior. The warriors met his gaze then pointed their heads high.
"Kkaacgh, find another Aawk-vermin hunting party for us to kill tomorrow."
"High Chief, I know where there is another. If we go now we can reach a roosting place close enough to it to attack before the hunters leave in the morning."
"Lead us to this roosting place, Captain of Scouts."
Kkaacgh jerked at the title Graakaak used. Captain of Scouts! His chest swelled with this most singular honor.
"I saw you in the fight," Graakaak said. "I have never seen a Head of Scouts join in a fight except in defense. When we return to the High Tree you will begin training in use of the Clumsy Ones' weapons. Now lead us to roost."
Chest swollen almost to bursting, faint with dizziness at the praise and honors heaped on him, Kkaacgh bounded onto his eeookk and began trotting in the direction his scouts told him another Aawk-vermin hunting camp lay.
In three more days the Cheereek war party, led personally by High Chief Graakaak, attacked and wiped out six more Aawk-vermin hunting camps. They lost three warriors, one guard, and two eeookks. Graakaak crowed mightily. It was time to gather his full army and attack the Aawk-vermin High Tree.
Chapter 5
Madam Piggott Thigpen groaned with pleasure, not so much from the action Val Carney was happily performing at her feet, but from the effect of the dazzling gem that hung around her neck.
"Gorgeous, gorgeous," she muttered, slowly twirling the priceless beauty a few inches from her sweaty face.
Thinking she was complimenting him on his technique, Val Carney straightened up and wiped saliva from his lips. His heart raced as he gazed upon her enormous thighs. Then his spirits plunged when he realized that it was the gem, not himself, that captivated his lover's attention. He ran his hand across his lips once more.
"Mmmm," Piggott Thigpen murmured. Her eyes, normally hardly visible in the moon of fat that was her face, were now reduced to mere slits. "Ahhh," she whispered. Her eyes blinked open suddenly. She seemed surprised to see Carney kneeling naked beside her.
"I was about to start on your ankles, Petunia," Val Carney said apologetically. Only he dared call her that, or so he believed, and only because he'd earned the right by performing the service at which he'd just been interrupted. "Put that bauble away, my dearest, my mound of ecstasy, I was just warming up!"
Piggott Thigpen only grunted. Clearly, the mood was broken. Val Carney arose and began gathering up his clothes. She lay on her couch, totally naked, one enormous breast slopping over nearly to the floor.
"What is it you see when you stare at that thing?" Carney asked, miffed that he'd been upstaged by a mere piece of what he considered costume jewelry. He nodded his head at the gem hanging from a necklace gleaming greasily around Piggott Thigpen's neck.
"Money, " she grunted. But she saw far more than that in the iridescent gem, although she could not explain just what visions it conjured. "Do you know how much this cost me?"
"Yes, my love, exactly." He smiled. He also knew that ten percent of the profits that might flow from the evening's meeting would more than finance his reelection campaign and possibly secure for him the seat of the Confederation presidency.
"It cost a fortune, Valley, my sweet-lipped little dynamo. Sit me up!" she commanded the microcomputer that controlled her orthosofa. Obedient to her spoken command, groaning mightily all the while, the sofa rotated her into a standing position and then gently lowered her feet to the floor so she could stand without assistance. "And that is why our guests will be meeting us here within the hour," she added, shuffling ponderously across the floor toward her dressing room. Carney, minus his trousers, rushed forward to assist her. Standing, she loomed over the thin little man. "Thank you, my succulent little boy," she grunted wetly, and with one huge hand carefully massaged him for a few delightful moments. When he began groaning with pleasure she turned abruptly with a laugh and waddled into her dressing room. The door hissed shut behind her.
Val Carney, elected representative from Katishaw to the Congress of the Confederation of Worlds, senior member on the Justice Oversight Committee, glared longingly after Madam Piggott Thigpen.
Clad in resplendent robes of the finest quality, Madam Piggott Thigpen, representative from Carhart's World to the Confederation of Worlds, welcomed her guests. Fully dressed, she was an imposing figure. Her apartment was large and very luxuriously appointed, but she dominated it with the force of her personality and the sheer volume of her physical presence.
Val Carney was the only other person who ever stayed very long in Piggott Thigpen's quarters, and never longer than overnight. When she entertained, she placed ordinary furniture about the apartment for the use of her guests. Only she was allowed to occupy one of the several New Brooklyn Orthosofas strategically located throughout the suite. The most sophisticated and modern servomechanisms attended to all her needs. That way her business remained private. Besides, she could not tolerate the presence of another person for very long in her living space. The closest thing she had to a pet was the gem hanging about her neck.
The first guest to arrive was Senator Henri Morgan. With his trademark smile, the one that showed perfect white teeth offset by his florid complexion, he gently kissed the back of Piggot Thigpen's hand. "Madam," he murmured. His flowing mane of pure-white hair swished around his shoulders. He was the perfect image of a legislative solon—and he knew it. He gave Val Carney the tips of his fingers for a perfunctory shake.
A servobot glided soundlessly up to the trio and asked Senator Morgan what he was drinking. "Katzenwasser 'thirty-six," he answered. "What's the stock market quote on Consolidated Dolomide today?" Morgan asked the servo. Obligingly it rotated a vidscreen to an angle where the senator could easily read it, and the latest market quotes flashed before his eyes. The senator grinned. "A small investment, friends," he muttered, nodding at Val Carney. "I highly recommend it." As the servo poured the wine, the senator continued watching the screen. "Show me the prospectus for AVI, Limited," he said. He laughed outright and slapped his thigh loudly when the prospectus flashed onto the screen. "Will he come?" Morgan asked Piggott Thigpen over his shoulder.
She shrugged. "He said he would. Who can predict what Sam'll do? But there's big money to be made tonight, Henri. Sam'll be here." She waddled to her orthosofa and sank heavily into its cushions. Gently the sofa rotated into a comfortable position.
Val Carney sat in an ordinary chair beside his mistress. He frowned distrustfully at the orthosofa. He'd heard once that one of them had malfunctioned and crushed its occupant to jelly in a death grip. Maybe it was just getting even for something. He'd never be caught in one of the damned things.
For the better part of an hour the trio sat discussing the fourth guest as they waited for him to arrive. Piggott Thigpen clearly showed her frustration at being kept waiting. She had no choice but to wait, patiently or otherwise, because the fourth member of the party was the only man who could bring off the coup she and Morgan had been plotting.
"Madam," a servo announced politely from the doorway, "a gentleman calling himself Sam Patch is here to see you."
Sam Patch was dressed in a dirty jumpsuit. Except for the web of scars that crisscrossed his right cheek, his face was handsome. He kept them because he thought they enhanced the menace of his appearance.
"My ship was late," he said to no one in particular. He spoke without inflection in a flat tenor voice. "Reindeer Ale," he demanded of the servo as it rolled up to him. He snatched the glass from the servo and plopped into the nearest sofa with a sigh. As it b
egan to adjust itself to his bulk, he said, "Stop fucking with me." Obediently, the device assumed the configuration of a normal chair.
Patch offered no greeting to any of the others. Reaching into a breast pocket, he took out a cigar stub and lighted it. "Nice digs," he said almost to himself.
"Sam, I'd rather you didn't smoke in here. The air scrubbers—" Piggot Thigpen began.
"I'll leave, then," Patch responded, getting to his feet in one lithe motion that belied enormous physical strength and control. "Send your proposals to me in care of the Hotel Milner, downtown."
"Oh no, Sam! It's fine! It's okay!" Piggott Thigpen called after him. Halfway to the door he hesitated and then walked back to his seat. Val Carney, who enjoyed a good cigar as much as anyone, sniffed diffidently. The thing Patch had stuck into his mouth smelled like burning excrement.
Sam Patch was a man who had lived all his life on both sides of the law, usually the wrong one. But he was very smart and very quick and those qualities had made him rich—and kept him out of jail.
"Sam, do you know these gentlemen?" Piggot Thigpen asked after an embarrassed silence.
"I know Senator Morgan by reputation. Who're you?" he asked Val Carney. Carney introduced himself briefly. "He in on this too?" Patch turned to Thigpen, disbelief heavy in his voice.
"Yes," she replied.
"What's your angle?" Patch asked Carney directly, jabbing his cigar at the congressman.
"He has connections at the Ministry of Justice," Thigpen answered quickly. "And he knows someone who can provide the equipment you will need." Carney, whose eyes were beginning to water from the foul cigar smoke, glowered at the latecomer, but it was pure bravado. His instincts told him Sam Patch was no man to cross.
Patch only snorted. Then he said, "Well, I don't know what you're up to, but the fewer who know, the better, I always say. Now why don't you tell me why you asked me to come here."
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