The creature reacted with shocking speed and unnaturally fast reflexes, rising and whirling in one motion. Though its proportions were mutant, the face that confronted Fifth-of-Medicine was wide-eyed and wholly Ashregan.
Feeling numbly foolish, he continued to stand where he’d risen, exposed and vulnerable, staring back at the enemy. To break the paralysis he jumped up and down several times and twitched obscenely, though it was unlikely the Ashregan was knowledgeable enough to interpret the gestures.
The stone, the words, the gestures or a combination thereof had an effect, however. Like some great primeval forest spirit, the mutant Ashregan crouched momentarily.
When it rose anew a horrified Fifth-of-Medicine saw the long spear which the creature had until now kept concealed in the underbrush.
The weapon was even taller than its maker, as thick around as the medic’s wrist, straight and lethal-looking. Its tip of sharpened stone looked quite capable of slicing through iridescent green scales, flesh, and organs.
With an inarticulate cry, Fifth-of-Medicine put all carefully considered plans aside as he turned and ran.
V
He could hear the Ashregan crashing through the brush behind him. It was making less noise than he’d hoped, slipping through the brush and vines and across the spongy surface with entirely too much ease for so large a creature. Nor were they the sounds he imagined would be produced by something massive traveling on a damaged leg.
Expecting to see nothing so soon, he glanced back over his shoulder and was aghast to note that the Ashregan was not only in sight but already closing. It was not limping.
What had happened to its injury, he wondered frantically?
It occurred to him suddenly that maybe there had never been any wound. Perhaps it had been feigning injury all along, just in case it should encounter Weave troops. So perfect had been its ruse that it had deceived even those it had not seen.
Long, powerful, heavy-boned legs carried it easily from log to log as it methodically ate up the distance between them with strides the shorter Hivistahm could not hope to match. The ominous spear hung from its fist, parallel to the ground. Fifth-of-Medicine was sure it was already within throwing distance.
He could feel the stone-tipped, heavy piece of jungle timber slamming into his back, piercing vital organs, emerging from his sternum with sufficient force still unspent to pin him like a specimen bug against the nearest tree. He tried to accelerate, his three-toed sandaled feet hardly touching the ground as he flew through the woods.
No matter how fast he ran or how radically he swerved, the creature continued to close the distance between them.
He knew then with absolute certainty that they were not going to trap the Ashregan in their carefully concealed pit because it was going to overtake him long before they reached the place. He imagined he could feel the creature’s breath on the back of his neck. His eyes wildly scanned the vegetation he ripped through. Where was Itepu with his poised rock? Still somewhere ahead, too far ahead.
Another glance backward filled his eyes with that horrible flat face, the parted mouth with its squarish cutting teeth, the projecting bony ridges over the ears, the throwback patch of fur atop the slightly flattened skull. And the eyes, those round burning eyes, gazing unblinkingly back into his own.
It’s toying with me, he realized suddenly. It knows it can bring me down at any time.
Emitting a hiss of absolute and complete hysteria, knowing that he would never reach the pit in time, too terrified to lament the accomplishments and merit that would never be his, he ran on.
There was a crash behind him. In focusing its attention on its prey had the mutant slipped on the perpetually damp ground? Had it tripped over an especially well-concealed liana? Fifth-of-Medicine didn’t turn to look, didn’t stop until his heart threatened to bang its way out through his heaving chest.
He blinked. There was nothing behind him.
Was it still playing with its quarry, sneaking through the brush nearby, silently amused at his inchoate terror? To the best of his knowledge that was not a characteristic of the Ashregan. It had all but run him down. Why pause to prolong the game? Humans were occasionally reputed to do such things, but not Ashregan.
It was against his better judgment, but then he’d been acting against his better judgment all day, he reminded himself. He started retracing his path, trying to keep to the denser vegetation, working his way slowly and carefully back the way he’d come.
Eventually he came to something which caused him to suck in his breath with a soft but perceptible hiss.
The Ashregan stood close by the trap. A portion of the branch-and-leaf camouflage had been contemptuously kicked aside to reveal the pit beneath. Blood streamed from the side of the mutant’s skull.
Itepu lay on his back at the edge of the hole, the tip of the Ashregan’s spear dimpling his belly. The medic recalled the crash he’d heard in the midst of his panicky flight.
The Lepar. Itepu must have leaped from concealment to strike the pursuing Ashregan. Only, the poor amphibian hadn’t struck hard enough. The mutant must have been staggered, but instead of going down he’d chased the clumsy Lepar to this point. Itepu had tried to lead the Ashregan into the pit, to succeed where Fifth-of-Medicine had failed.
He ducked down as the enemy soldier suddenly looked around, scanning the surrounding trees intently. Wondering what had happened to its original quarry, no doubt. Trying to decide if any more Weave fools lurked in the tepid jungle.
It turned away and began querying Itepu via its own battered battlefield translator. The sounds of the Lepar language filtered back to the cowering physiotech. Fifth-of-Medicine winced as the Ashregan emphasized its inquiry by prodding the prone Lepar with its spear. Each time the unfortunate maintenance worker refused to reply, the spearpoint probed a little deeper.
Why doesn’t he answer? the medic wondered. The Lepar’s defiance would only get him killed more slowly.
They’d tried, he told himself, and failed. It struck him that the Ashregan’s preoccupation with Itepu offered him a chance to slip away quietly. Could he do that? It was the eminently sensible thing to do, of course. Logical, if not civilized. Given time, he was sure he could rationalize his actions.
He hesitated, hiding deep in the undergrowth, his insides churning. The alternative to logic was a likely death. It was known that certain Hivistahm had succeeded in executing offensive gestures under extreme circumstances. Was he capable of such an action? Of overriding a lifetime’s conditioning? To, of all things, help a Lepar?
The tranquilizers were still active in his system, helping to dampen dangerous thoughts. This is the result of the Lepar’s misguided cogitation, he reminded himself. He had wanted to do the sensible thing, to avoid the mutant and continue on to the river and the nearest outpost. He was responsible only for his own safety. And there were greater responsibilities. To his meditation circle. To the war effort. A dead physiotech was of no use to the Weave.
It was the Lepar who had insisted on this ill-conceived effort. Therefore it was only right that the Lepar should pay for its failure. He owed it nothing. A last look, he decided, and then he would be gone.
Peering through the vegetation, he saw that the creature was now wholly occupied with its interrogation of Itepu. It no longer showed interest in its surroundings. That was good. He let the leaves he’d parted fall silently back into place.
He didn’t recall when he began to move. Nor did he remember striking the towering Ashregan behind its knees—most likely because both his eyelids were tightly shut at the moment of impact. The Hivistahm were light of build, and his greatest fear was that he wouldn’t have sufficient mass to carry out his intent.
His concern was not misplaced. Intent as it was on its questioning of Itepu, the mutant did not start to react until Fifth-of-Medicine was upon him. As it began to turn, the medic struck as hard as he could. The startled Ashregan dropped the spear and flailed its arms in an attempt to maintain it
s balance. The startled look on its face showed that it could not believe it had been surprised, much less by an inoffensive Hivistahm.
The soil at the edge of the pit was no less slippery and unstable than the rest of Eirrosad’s surface. For a horrible moment the creature appeared to regain its equilibrium. Then it dropped out of sight in a great crash of crunching leaves and twigs, emitting furious emanations as it fell. It struck bottom with a spongy thud.
Fifth-of-Medicine slumped to his haunches, breathing hard, tongue dangling to one side as he struggled to slow his heart rate. Angry noises continued to bubble from the depths of the trap. When the trembling stopped he rose and moved to help Itepu to his feet. Save for a minor cut where the spear had prodded, the Lepar was unhurt.
“You saved my life.”
“Crazy it was. I am of commitment worthy. You must turn me in for observation upon our return. I insist on it!”
Ignoring him, Itepu cautiously approached the lip of the pit and peered in.
The Ashregan was on its feet, uttering curses as it inspected its surroundings. Fifth-of-Medicine did not approach the trap. He knew what the Ashregan looked like.
Itepu backed away from the edge. “Well, we have done it.”
“Do not remind me. I prefer not to think on it.”
“Now that we have captured the creature, we must think of a way to take it with us.”
“I a better idea have.” The medic was still breathing hard. “Let’s leave it here. We can some food and water provide and mark the spot in our minds. Others come and recover it can.”
“No, we can’t do that.” Itepu was inexorable. “Given time it may find a way to escape. We must take it with us or everything we have done may go to waste.” It glanced in the direction of the trap. “We know for certain now that it is Ashregan. A Human would not have bothered to ask questions, but would have killed an enemy instantly.”
Reluctantly Fifth-of-Medicine joined his companion at the edge of the pit as they considered what to do with their prisoner.
Once, it backed into a far corner and unexpectedly took a running leap at them, powerful hands reaching for the physiotech’s legs. Fifth-of-Medicine took a startled hop backward. He needn’t have bothered. Though it could jump impossibly high for so massive a creature, its fingers still fell far short of the trap’s rim.
Next it tried to climb out, expending in its frantic efforts more sheer energy than the medic believed a single being could muster. The damp, soft earth crumbled under its fingers and beneath its feet. Several times it ascended nearly a body length, only to tumble back to the bottom as the treacherous soil gave way beneath scrabbling hands and feet.
Though astonishing in their scope, its physical resources were finite. It tried, failed, and fell exhausted one last time into the shallow puddle of water which had collected at the bottom of the pit. Quiescent at last it lay there, breathing hard and glaring murderously up at them.
Fifth-of-Medicine’s teeth clicked softly. “We here have to leave it. How can we such a killer restrain? If we bring it out it surely kill us will, and if we down after go it will kill us there. We cannot incapacitate it without near it going.”
“That may not be true,” Itepu replied slowly.
The Hivistahm’s eyelids closed halfway. “Explain yourself.”
Itepu gestured at the physiotech’s service belt. “You have medicines designed to make the injured feel better. Do not some of them also put you to sleep?”
“Truly. But the emergency vials I at all times on my person carry are calibrated for treating Massood and Human fighters, and to a lesser extent Hivistahm, Lepar, and whatever other species I am at the time serving with. To an enemy treat requires the resources of a field hospital.”
“I have heard that Human and Ashregan physiology are very similar.”
“Truly they are, but whether they identical enough are for pharmaceuticals designed for one to affect another is a far more complex matter. I am only a fifth-of-medicine, a field medic. I am not in such matters competent.”
“This creature has been given Human physical and fighting characteristics,” Itepu pointed out. “If anything, it should be more receptive than others of its kind to serums designed for treating Humans. Would it not be worth trying?”
“Still remains the main problem,” Fifth-of-Medicine insisted. “How to get near enough to an adequate dosage inject.”
“Must it be injected? The creature is tough, but it still needs to eat.”
Fifth-of-Medicine considered. “Would it not suspicious of food from us be?”
“Probably, but hunger should eventually overcome suspicion. It must realize that if we wanted it dead we could throw rocks down on it, or leave it here. Nor does it know that you are a medic with access to sedatives.”
He made the dose strong. Very strong. After all, the worst that could happen was that it would kill the creature, thus sparing them the difficulty of somehow hauling it back with them. He was able to concoct the dose without qualms because it was not his intent to kill but to tranquilize. The possibility of a fatal accident weighed only peripherally on his conscience.
As expected, the Ashregan at first refused all offers of fruit and meat. But two days of clawing futilely at the walls of its prison left it ravenous, and it finally devoured the proffered food, exhibiting an extraordinary appetite as well as atrocious table manners. It not only finished what they had provided but asked for more, after which it sat down in the slimy puddle and regarded them with a baleful expression on its flat, ugly face.
An hour later its eyes closed as its head fell over on one shoulder.
“We can use vines braced around a tree to drag it out,” Itepu suggested, “and to bind it. I think the two of us working together can manage the load.”
“One of us will have to go down to secure it.” The medic was studying the motionless alien form. “What if it deceiving is?”
“I will find out.”
It took the Lepar a few moments to locate a rock of suitable size. As Fifth-of-Medicine looked on, Itepu carefully positioned himself on the other side of the pit and let it drop. It was large enough to start a trickle of blood from the Ashregan’s scalp but not to crack bone. The mutant’s eyelids did not even twitch.
“Truly unconscious it is.” Fifth-of-Medicine was satisfied. “Let us make sure we bind it beyond possibility of escape.”
A variable-focus surgical cutter allowed them to sever and gather very thick vines. After wrapping the heavy alien in a green cocoon, arms secured behind its back, they strained to haul it out of the hole, working quickly lest it awaken before they were finished. Since they did not have the inclination, much less the strength, to carry their prisoner, they left its lower limbs relatively free, binding each ankle to opposite ends of a short, stout tree limb which severely restricted each leg’s range of motion while still allowing the creature enough leeway so that it could stumble forward.
When it regained consciousness it was more than a little surprised at the condition in which it found itself. After trying its bonds and finding them unbreakable, it looked accusingly at Fifth-of-Medicine. Its translator was in bad shape, but still functioning.
“You drugged me,” it said accusingly. “I didn’t suspect. What are a Hivistahm and Lepar doing out in this jungle with drugs?”
“I a medical technician am,” Fifth-of-Medicine found himself replying. Even bound and helpless, the Ashregan still cut an intimidating figure.
It emitted an untranslatable grunt. “That never occurred to me. I should have noted your uniform type when I was chasing you. It serves me right. Well, now that you have me, what do you intend to do with me?”
“Take you back with us.” The physiotech retreated several steps as the Ashregan struggled to its feet. The limb secured to its ankles reduced its stride considerably, its mobility completely. Enmeshed in its cocoon of vines, it towered over its captors.
Itepu clutched the prisoner’s spear. The Ashregan grinned contemp
tuously. “You don’t expect me to believe you’d use that.”
The Lepar’s reply was admirably firm. “I have hit you twice with rocks. I might surprise you again.”
“You might at that. You Lepar are difficult to understand. Some day you’ll be useful participants in the Purpose.”
“Not while any of us lives,” Itepu assured him.
“Nor any Hivistahm.” Fifth-of-Medicine was not about to be exceeded in defiance by a Lepar. “You are back with us coming. You a physical anomaly are. Ashregan you appear, yet with Human characteristics.”
“I am Ashregan,” the captive replied proudly. “You hold the Unifer Ranji-aar of Purposeful Cossuut.” He strained at his bonds. “And if I can free myself I will destroy you both, as I destroy all enemies of the Purpose.”
“Yes, we know.” Fifth-of-Medicine’s confidence increased in proportion to the Ashregan’s inability to loosen its bindings. “It is clear that altered you have been. Doubtless responsible the Amplitur are.”
The soldier glared narrowly at his captor. “The Amplitur do not do such things. Such tales are only Weave propaganda. The Amplitur …”
“Spare us the lecture on the wonderfulness of the Amplitur. I have eyes, and I a trained medical specialist am. You both Ashregan and Human traits possess. There is here something very peculiar going on. We are taking you back so that better minds than mine can what the truth is find out.”
“They’ll find no more than you.” The mutant expectorated. “You’ve taken a captive; that’s all.” It turned sharply to Itepu, who flinched slightly, black eyes blinking, but held his ground. “You I should’ve killed when I had the chance.”
The Lepar’s expression did not change. “But you did not.”
“No. You were on the ground and helpless, and I had questions to ask. I should have been faster, like a berserker Human.”
“I am glad you were not.” Itepu stepped boldly forward and poked the bound Ashregan with the spear. “Now move. That way.”
The Damned Trilogy Page 45
