LC01 Sweet Starfire

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Any other bright suggestions?”

  “No,” Cidra admitted. “It just doesn’t fit, that’s all. By the time they built this place they were a peaceful, gentle people. It doesn’t seem in their nature to build such traps.”

  “There’s a lot we don’t know about their nature, Cidra, and don’t forget it.” Severance turned around. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Uh, I’ve just thought of something.”

  “What?” He was checking the pulser.

  “A minor point. Do you know how to find our way back?”

  “You should have worried about that last night when you went for your joy walk.” Then he saw the look on her face. “Stop worrying, I can find the way back.” He pulled a small instrument out of his loop. “We didn’t come that far according to this.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A directional system. Everyone who works on Renaissance carries one. It’ll home in on deflector screens, a skimmer’s comm unit, or anything else that puts out a man-made signal.” He walked to the edge of the protected area and peered ahead. Then he glanced at the small instrument in his hand. “Okay, let’s try this one more time, shall we? Remember what I said. Stick close and don’t touch anything.”

  They got no more than two meters outside the Ghosts’ serene, sheltered circle before the lockmouth attacked.

  FOURTEEN

  If he’d ever been given a written guarantee that the universe played fair, Severance would have sued now. It was all too much. He was too exhausted, too slow, and too anxious to get back to the safety of the deflectors. And the lockmouth was too hungry and too fast.

  The clawed feet ripped downward as the scaled head that was twice as large as a man’s opened its cavernous mouth. A reserve of sheer, blind instinct, not nimble, clever resourcefulness, threw Severance backward at the last possible instant. The claws, each as long as his fingers, slashed across his chest and shoulder instead of his throat.

  He heard Cidra shout something as she struggled to pull him out of the way. He thought about telling her that it was too late to run. But there wasn’t time to explain just how fast and vindictive a cheated lockmouth could be. Severance shoved at her, sending her sprawling.

  The long, evilly shaped creature with the oversized head was already plunging down out of the nest of vines where it had been waiting for unwary prey. The mouth opened wide. Lockmouths could swallow a human being whole. They did it slowly. Once the locking mechanisms in the powerful jaws were closed, the only way to free whatever was trapped inside was to cut off the huge head. By then, there wasn’t much point.

  The lockmouth crouched briefly, preparing the final spring. This time it wouldn’t miss. Severance decided he’d better not miss, either. On Renaissance there were very few second chances, and he’d already used up his quota for a year. He was sorely tempted to fire the pulser straight into the creature’s gaping mouth but resisted and aimed for the eyes. Behind them resided whatever the creature had that passed for a brain.

  The pulser withered one huge, glassy eye, and the lockmouth jerked spasmodically. Severance used the second’s grace to edge backward. He heard Cidra breathing quickly into the sudden, hushed silence, but she said nothing.

  That was the thing about Cidra, Severance decided as he fired again. She knew when to keep her mouth shut.

  The lockmouth jerked once more and then crumpled heavily to the jungle floor. The jaws slammed shut, locked for the last time in death.

  “Severance, you’re bleeding.”

  “I know. It’s one of the dumber things a man can do on Renaissance.” The pain was lancing through him now as the short-term anesthetic effects of adrenaline and fear wore thin. He looked down at where the lockmouth’s claws had ripped through the tough fabric of his shirt as though it were made of spun crystal moss. There were three savage scrapes across the tough hide of the rantgan leather utility loop. The loop had kept the lockmouth from ripping up his chest as well as his shoulder. Warm blood of an interesting shade of crimson had already dampened too much of the shirt. It was running down his arm and dripping on the ground. A small, innocent-looking flower suddenly spread its petals to absorb the moisture.

  “The Ghost circle.” Cidra stepped forward, clamping a hand solidly over Severance’s bleeding wound. Blood seeped between her fingers but began to slow as she applied pressure. “We’ll be safe there while we bandage your shoulder.”

  Severance didn’t argue. He was feeling strangely dizzy already and was alarmed. He couldn’t afford the luxury of any picturesque wounds. He had to get Cidra back to the safety of the deflectors; had to put in the call for help. Damn it, he should have been faster back there when the lockmouth attacked. Being exhausted and a little slower than usual were not acceptable excuses on Renaissance.

  “I guess this answers the question of whether we’re going to get the same escorted tour back to the campsite that we got coming here.” He tried to seat himself calmly on the rich green ground cover inside the perimeter of the magic circle and wound up collapsing, instead. Not a good image for the crew, he chided himself. The one in charge was supposed to look as if he really were in charge. He hadn’t done too well in that area recently.

  “I don’t understand,” Cidra said. She studied Severance’s shoulder with a grim intensity while she kept up the steady, blood-slowing pressure with her hand. “Why doesn’t the protection work both ways?”

  “Who in a renegade’s hell knows? Maybe we got here through pure luck the first time. Or maybe the signal, whatever it is, has grown too weak to work well. Or maybe it never was designed to work both ways.” He flinched and gritted his teeth.

  “You’ve been badly hurt, Severance.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to call it just a small flesh wound.” He groaned, more in frustration than from pain. “No wound on Renaissance qualifies as a minor flesh wound, unfortunately. Any amount of blood draws too much interest.” At the edge of the circle there was a flash of movement. Fangs gleamed for a moment and then vanished. “See what I mean? Thank Sweet Harmony this circle seems to be holding.” He fumbled with the utility loop. “There’s some emergency stuff in here somewhere. The antiseptic is the most important thing.”

  He cursed, a soft, sibilant sound, as he withdrew the small spray vial. Cidra took it from him, maintaining her pressure hold on his shoulder.

  “I think the bleeding is slowing,” she said.

  He scanned her steady face. “It doesn’t seem to be making you sick to your stomach.”

  She glared at him. “Nothing has made me sick to my stomach so far. Why should this?”

  “Getting cocky, are you, little Wolf?”

  She saw the affectionate amusement that briefly replaced the pain and frustration in his eyes. “It isn’t blood that bothers Harmonics. Its knowing someone else is in pain that bothers them. I don’t have to worry about that, though, do I? You’re doing an excellent job of playing the stoic hero.”

  “Fool, not hero.” He closed his eyes as she peeled away the torn fabric of the shirt. Wordlessly he handed her the small utility knife. Cidra looked at him in horror. “Don’t worry. I’m already ripped up enough as it is. You don’t have to do any cutting except on the shirt.”

  “Oh. For a minute there I thought I was going to have to perform minor surgery.”

  “Just spray the area with the antiseptic, and then we’ll try bandaging it.”

  “Perhaps I should wash the wound first.”

  “Get some water from that stream. I’ve got a bag you can use to collect it. And there are some standard-issue purification drops somewhere on this damned loop.”

  “But I’m sure any water flowing through this circle would be clean and pure,” she protested.

  “You’ve got a hell of a lot more faith in the Ghosts than I do. Have you forgotten that last set of illusions inside that safehold?”

  “No, but I’m sure there’s an explanation for them.”

  “I’m sure there is too. Just like
there’s an explanation for everything on this planet. The trouble is, it may not be one we want to hear.”

  Cidra said nothing, collecting water in the clear plastic bag from the cheerful little stream. She added the chemical drops and waited while the water turned a strange shade of purple. Then she carefully bathed the wound, relieved to see that the bleeding was under control. When she was done, she reached for the antiseptic.

  “Ouch! “

  She stopped spraying antiseptic and glanced worriedly at Severance’s face. “Does that hurt?”

  He set his teeth. “No. Not a bit. What makes you ask?”

  “Severance . . .”

  “Finish spraying. I’ll work harder at playing the stoic hero.”

  She hurried, aware of his growing pain. When she was finished, she dropped the spray back into his loop. “What do we use for bandages?”

  “A mailman is always prepared. Try the small pouch near my shoulder. I’ve got some plastic adhesive in there.”

  She applied the liquid adhesive with quick strokes and watched as it hardened into a strong bandage. “I think that stopped the last of the bleeding. How do you feel?”

  “I still feel like a fool.” He looked down at her handiwork. There was a lot of blood and gore on his arm, but the adhesive seemed to be holding.

  “This was hardly your fault, Severance.” Cidra leaned back on her folded knees. “The responsibility for getting us into this mess is mine.

  “I’m the one who set off on a midnight garden walk through the jungle with you instead of dragging you back to the tent, remember?”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “But, nothing. I’m the one who screwed up.” He held up a hand to keep her from arguing further. “The subject is closed for discussion. We’ll reopen it later when I feel more like fighting with you. Right now I haven’t got the energy.”

  She subsided, not liking the pallor on his tanned face. “If you’re not up to fighting with me, Severance, then you probably aren’t up to trying to make it back to the deflectors.”

  “Trust a Harmonic to grasp a difficult situation the first time out.

  “I’m not a Harmonic.”

  “Hush, Cidra.” He paused for a moment, eyes closed. “It looks like we’re stuck here for the night. I’d say we had to try for the deflectors if this weird circle didn’t seem to be working, but it does, so I guess our odds are better staying here than trying to hike back. It’s going to be dark soon.” He swung an assessing glance around the perimeter of the circle. “Let’s move over to the wall of the safehold. That should protect our backs just in case.”

  Cidra tried to help him as he staggered to his feet. He was shakier than he wanted to admit. He looked down at her supporting hands.

  “You’re stronger than you look, aren’t you, Cidra?”

  She ignored that. “At least we’ll be warm enough.”

  “Food,” he announced succinctly, “will be our next problem.”

  She glanced at him as she eased him down with his back to the translucent wall. “Any ideas? Can we eat any of the vegetation around this circle?”

  Severance leaned his head back, taking a few seconds to gather his strength. Cidra crouched beside him. When he opened his eyes again, she breathed a small sigh of relief. His gaze was steady, not showing any signs of disorientation. He gazed at the jungle growth that ringed their shelter. “I’m no botanist. Any of this stuff could be deadly or simply inedible. The safest thing to eat on Renaissance is what most everything else eats: Meat. If you can kill it before it kills you.”

  Cidra felt her stomach lurch for the first time. She cleared her throat. “Actually, there shouldn’t be more than a few hunger pangs if we simply wait until we get back to the campsite tomorrow. No harm in going a day without eating.”

  He looked up at her through slitted eyes. “Personally I’m starved. Neither of us has had anything since yesterday, and we’ve gone through a lot of our stored energy since then. Renaissance has a way of doing that to a body. By tomorrow we could be lightheaded. That’s not a good condition to be in when we make another try for the campsite.”

  “I understand.” She said no more. This was a matter of survival. There was no obligation to follow the Klinian dietary restrictions under such circumstances. Vegetarianism was a luxury she could not afford tonight. “What do we do?”

  He unholstered the pulser. “We sit here very quietly and wait for the crowd to arrive.”

  “What crowd?”

  “The guests who will be sitting down to dine on the late, unlamented lockmouth. Sooner or later something will pass by on the way to the meal. I’ll try to get it before it realizes we’re a threat.”

  Cidra nodded, quelling her stomach with a stern effort of will. She sat huddled in silence beside Severance as the darkness descended. Before long, the dinner guests began arriving. The first indications were eyes. Far too many eyes. They flickered and flared in the shadows.

  Next came the sounds of scufflings and one or two piercing screams. This was not a well-mannered crowd, Cidra decided. And some of the guests had just become entrees themselves. She shuddered at the thought and stayed very still.

  The unwary, overanxious diner who passed too close to the circle was a small four-footed hopping creature that had fur instead of scales. Cidra had been rather hoping for something with scales. It was easier to dislike scaled things. A totally irrational, even primitive reaction, but one she couldn’t shake. She shut her eyes when Severance brought up the pulser and fired in a smooth, sure movement.

  “Get it,” he snapped, “before something else does.”

  Cidra leapt to her feet and dashed to the edge of the circle. The little hopper lay dead less than a meter away. It looked very cuddly and pathetic until she saw the fangs in its mouth. She reached out, grabbed it by the fluffy tail, and hauled it into the safe area. Her heart was pounding, and her insides again moved uncomfortably. Huge, dead eyes gazed up at her in mute reproach.

  “I’d better clean it on the edge of the circle.” Severance made his way painfully to the perimeter and pulled out the utility knife. He removed the miniature quartzflash he carried and set it on the ground to light the hopper. “Ever do any dissection work in those biology classes you’re always mentioning?”

  She swallowed. “No. Everything was demonstrated with holotapes. I wasn’t going to be a biologist, so there was no need to actually do dissections.”

  “This isn’t going to look like any neat, clean holotape. Why don’t you start the flamer while I take care of this?” He handed her the tiny can of instant fire he had removed from his loop and turned back to the hopper.

  Cidra looked away, busying herself with igniting the emergency flamer. She had it going quickly and adjusted the wide flame to a reasonable level. The fire was very comforting here in the middle of the jungle, she discovered.

  Severance was tiring very rapidly. Cidra kept a wary eye on him as he washed his bloodied hands in the bubbling stream. But she said nothing as he doggedly roasted sections of meat on the narrow point of the utility knife.

  Cidra listened to the hissing of animal fat and tried to close her nostrils to the smell of roasting meat. When Severance handed her a portion, she took it without a word.

  “Careful, it’s hot.” He bit hungrily into the hindquarter he was holding.

  Cidra stopped breathing as she took a tiny bite. She’d never eaten meat in her life. Closing her eyes, she chewed woodenly, trying not to taste. On the other side of the small flamer Severance chewed vigorously and watched her. Under his steady gaze she forced herself to swallow the first bite, trying to think of it as medicine.

  “We’re very lucky you remembered to bring the utility loop and the pulser with you,” she remarked, trying for light dinner-table conversation. In the shadows the other diners weren’t being nearly so fussy. Their conversations consisted of squeals, growls, hisses, and shrieks. She hoped they would finish quickly.

  “It was probably instinct mor
e than luck. It certainly wasn’t careful, foresighted planning. I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. I just remember feeling undressed. Wearing the loop is second-nature to me. And carrying a pulser on Renaissance has gotten to be an unconscious action.” He finished gnawing on a leg. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” she said tightly, and forced down another bite.

  “You look a little green.” He scrutinized her in the flickering light. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.”

  His expression softened. “Poor Cidra. Just one new experience after another these days, isn’t it?”

  “This trip has turned out slightly different than I had anticipated.”

  “What an understatement.”

  She felt obliged to hold her own. “But thanks to your unorthodox way of doing things, I might have discovered a shortcut to my goal.” She glanced behind her into the darkened entrance to the circular chamber.

  “You think whatever drew us here is the source of the legend you’re chasing?” His eyes were unreadable now in the firelight.

  “It’s possible. There was definitely a telepathic sensation involved, don’t you think? I felt the first trickle of it yesterday afternoon while I waited for you. I wonder if the failing deflector screens allowed the call to get through. Maybe deflectors normally block it.”

  “But last night the screens were working at full strength.”

  “True,” Cidra mused. “But by then the mechanism responsible for projecting the call might have had a fix, so to speak, on our location. Maybe it can’t compete against other distractions, but in the quiet of the night it was able to touch us.”

  Severance shrugged and said nothing as he spitted another chunk of hopper and held it over the flame.

  Cidra continued, trying to reason out the logic of the situation. “If one or two others in the past have felt the call, they might have told the tale to their friends. Over the years the stories would have grown more involved and complex.”

  “Until they reached the point where they made it into the Archives? It’s possible. But if others have heard that call and followed it, why hasn’t anyone discovered this safehold?” Severance asked in a reasonable tone.