Continuing to probe the body in hope of finding something else useful, he was mildly interested to discover that the Tracker was female and mammalian, very much like an Ashregan in consistency and shape. His interest was wholly dispassionate. The notion that anyone would find contact with a barbaric, half-mad, crazed Human in any way stimulating made him shudder. Not to mention the fact that the individual in question had just tried its best to melt his skull.
It moaned softly then, proof that his reflexive blow with the club hadn’t been fatal. When he reached the head his fingers encountered the thick wetness flowing from the scalp. The figure moaned again, louder this time.
He considered how to proceed. The thought of killing another Human did not bother him—he’d done plenty of that on Koba—but the less damage he inflicted during his period of freedom, the easier it would go on him if he eventually was recaptured. Neither side had much sympathy for prisoners who killed while escaping.
A check of the service belt turned up the expected communications module. With the aid of the translator that had remained in place in his ear and around his neck during his flight, he might be able to monitor the other Trackers’ positions as they spoke to one another. That would be more than a little useful.
Ought to be on my way, he mused. Still, if he lingered until the Tracker regained consciousness, he might be able to acquire valuable information about the size, disposition, and strength of his pursuit as well as the countryside in which he found himself. He was not Amplitur and could not mind-probe, but there were other methods of interrogation—following which he could always render her unconscious again.
Occupying himself with a cursory search of the pack’s contents in the feeble light of the single small moon, he settled down to wait.
He dozed off more than once during the night, awakening each time with a start at the cry or movement of some nocturnal creature. His concerns were unfounded. The Tracker had not moved.
As soon as darkness began to give way to morning, he rose and walked to the nearest stream. Using the Tracker’s collapsible purifying cup he scooped water from the surface and returned, putting it to her lips until she began to cough. Pouring the rest over her face, he settled back and watched, gun in hand.
She rolled over and blinked without straightening. When she saw him, she woke up very quickly. Her gaze dropped to his waist, where her service belt rode snugly, then to his feet, where he had placed her pack.
He must have made quite a picture, he mused, clad as he was in her equipment, his Ashregan duty suit, and the rapidly ripening animal skin. Before speaking, he double-checked his translator settings.
“Sorry I had to hit you so hard, but keep in mind that you were the one doing the hunting. I stumbled over you in the dark and you shot at me, so I reacted as necessary. You might’ve killed me.”
“Didn’t want to.” She had a pleasant voice, he thought, but then there was little difference between the Human and Ashregan larynx. “Supposed to bring you in intact. For study.” Now she sat up and felt gingerly of the lump on her head where his club had connected. “You surprised me, too. Might’ve killed me.”
He made an Ashregan gesture of negativity. “Didn’t want to. Keep you alive. For study.”
She looked at him sideways, then smiled hesitantly. As it wasn’t a maximum Human smile, with the concomitant obscene baring of teeth, he was able to observe it without flinching.
He saw the lean muscles start to tense beneath her clothing and leisurely raised the muzzle of the little heat pistol. “Please don’t. Unnecessary killing distresses those of us who believe in the Purpose.” She relaxed.
“Better. My name is Ranji-aar, though you probably know that already, along with much else about me. As I find imbalance in the universe personally displeasing, you will be good enough to supply me with your name.”
She hesitated, then shrugged. If he wanted to, she knew he could make life uncomfortable for her.
“Trondheim. Heida Trondheim. You move fast. You’ve been giving us a hell of a time.”
“Independence is a great motivator.”
She turned to face him, straightening her legs as she rose, leaning against a tree for support. “Enjoy it while you can. We’re closing in on you. This country is swarming with Trackers. Any time now they’re going to start missing me.” She studied him with interest. “You must be pretty special. I’m told that when news of your escape reached local Command, the authorities went a little nuts.”
“Delighted to hear it. As for your friends closing in on me, they’ve been closing in on me for days. They just can’t seem to catch me.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You don’t talk or act like your average Ashregan. Don’t look much like one, either.”
He bristled. There it was again, this elementary emphasis on his appearance. “I’m not average,” he growled.
Again her fingers felt of her forehead. “You sure don’t hit average.” She tensed again and for the first time he saw fear in her eyes. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Not unless you make it necessary for me to do so. I would rather ask you some questions.”
“Don’t expect me to answer freely.”
“You don’t have to answer freely.” He gestured with the gun. “Feel free to answer under duress.” From her service belt he removed a small device the size of his middle finger. It was fashioned of dull gray metal and sported a miniature grid at one end, a single button at the other. “What does this do?”
Her lips drew into a tight line as she crossed her arms.
“Very well. I suppose the only way to find out is to try it.” Pointing the grid end at her, he placed his thumb over the button.
Alarmed, she ducked and raised both hands defensively. Only after he’d reattached the device to the belt did she resignedly explain.
“It contains a powerful binary narcoleptic gas that activates on contact. Designed for close-quarter capture. It’s not harmful.”
“I can infer that from your reaction,” he replied dryly.
Again that hesitancy. “I swear you keep joking with me. The Ashregan don’t joke.”
“Some of us do.”
She sat up again, dusting her shoulder off. “I studied the pictures they gave us, but they don’t begin to suggest how close to Human your appearance is.”
“All Humans and Ashregan look alike,” he replied with the tired air of one who was heartily sick of the subject.
She shook her head. “Not this much. For one thing you’re much too tall, taller than most Human males.”
“I have many friends who are considerably shorter, and others who are taller still. There is considerable physical variation in both our species.”
“It’s more than that.”
Her intense gaze was making him uncomfortable. If one disregarded the flattened skull, protruding ears, and tiny eye sockets, she was almost attractive. Her legs made those of the average Ashregan female look stunted, though her fingers were far shorter. He was glad of the intensifying daylight, which tended to emphasize the differences between them.
“We were told that you were one of a group of specialized Ashregan who’ve been genetically altered by the Amplitur. Seeing you in the flesh, I can believe it.”
“I am the Ashregan Unifer Ranji-aar,” he reminded her stiffly. “Your philosophical and physical enemy. Nothing more than that. Do not think to compose an appeal to any imaginary ‘Human’ characteristics you think I possess. You will only be disappointed.”
“Well, you talk like an Ashregan, and you act like an Ashregan, but …” She was still dubious. “No wonder Research and Development wants to look at you so badly.”
“I am not flattered.”
“This is going to ruin me,” she muttered. “I’ll be laughed out of my unit.”
“Your personal social difficulties are of no concern to me.” He rose and she shrank back against the tree. “I don’t think you can track me without this.” He held up the seeker visor he’
d found in her pack and slowly slipped it over his face, the headband tightening automatically. Adjustment of its internal controls would provide him with greatly enhanced vision and a plethora of information on his surroundings.
“With this on, I think your colleagues will have a harder time ‘closing in’ on me.” He turned away from her to pick up the backpack.
“Then you’re really not going to kill me.” She was still hesitant.
“I’ve already told you: those who believe in the Purpose—”
“Yeah, yeah. Some of your allies take a less exalted attitude on the battlefield.”
He took a step toward her. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to render you unconscious again. Just to preserve my lead. Nothing personal.”
She sighed. “If you must. I hope you trip over a rock and break both legs. Nothing personal.”
He smiled. “I must tell you that your appearance borders on the attractive.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t go getting any funny ideas. We’re different species.”
“Ah,” he said, gratified. “Then you don’t think we’re that much alike after all.” Holstering the heat gun, he hefted his club.
VIII
Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have been trapped so easily, but his unnatural attraction to the Human female had made him careless. The result was that he fell victim to a relatively clumsy ambush.
By the time he realized what was happening it was too late. Fur bristling, triple eyes staring, the Yula stepped out from behind the boulder in front of him while the Hivistahm—Hivistahm!—rose from behind the fallen log off to his right. Each held a stinger focused on different parts of his body. He didn’t recognize the weapons type … not that it mattered.
He was furious with himself. A moment ago he’d been preparing to set off into the real mountains, better equipped to remain at large than he’d been since his initial escape. Now all was lost. Not to Human or Massood Trackers, but because of a native and a Hivistahm, noncombatants both.
The Hivistahm he thought he could outmaneuver, but he knew nothing of Yula reaction time. The triped spoke through a translator.
“Put your right hand atop your head and drop the club you hold to the ground, then put your left hand atop your right. Do it quickly, please!”
As soon as Ranji had complied the Hivistahm bounded forward and, trembling slightly, removed the heat pistol from the service belt and retreated.
“Good.” The tiny black eyes never wavered. “Please keep your hands where they are so that I may note the position of your manipulative digits at all times.”
Out of the corner of an eye Ranji saw that the Hivistahm was still trembling, and he wondered how the highly civilized, inoffensive creature had been talked into participating in the ambush.
The Human rose and brushed at the back of her suit. “It’s about time relief got here, though I was expecting one of my own kind. Not that I’m complaining, mind.” She started toward him.
“Stop there, please.”
Halting, she gaped at the Yula. It had remained motionless while confronting the prisoner, but under that Human stare it quivered ever so slightly. Ranji noted the reaction.
“What is this?” she murmured. “I’m one of the designated Trackers. You two have done well and will be suitably commended. I’ll see to that myself. But you’re not trained soldiers. I am. I’m not trying to steal your thunder. I’ll hold the gun while you take my stuff off him. Then we’ll call for a sled to lift us all out of here.” She took another step.
The Yula retreated an equal distance and flicked the muzzle of its weapon in her direction. “Stay where you are, Human. Do not make me tell you again. Your presence here complicates matters and I am trying to decide how to proceed.”
Hands atop his head, Ranji watched and waited silently for an opening.
“You want to take it back alive, to keep it here on Omaphil for observation and study,” the Yula was saying.
“Of course.” The woman continued to stare at the triped.
“I cannot let you do that.” Its fluffed-up fur made the native look twice as big as it actually was. “The thing has to die.”
“What are you talking about?” Trondheim’s gaze was focused on the stinger. “Don’t you realize what an impressive accomplishment this is for one of your species, how you’ll be feted when the word gets out that you and a Hivistahm captured an escaped Ashregan warrior?”
“We do not want to do anything ‘impressive,’” the Yula told her.
“Truly feted we do not wish to be,” added the Hivistahm.
With the rocking, jerky motion of its kind, the Yula took a double step toward Ranji. “The thing needs to die. It is a dangerous mutation, an aberration that could wreak havoc on Omaphil were it to escape from captivity. As it already has. So much for vaunted government safeguards.” He gestured with the pistol.
“Look at it! Twisted and distorted by the addition of Human fighting characteristics. Can one imagine anything so grotesque? It will be better off dead.”
“How did you know that I had escaped?” Ranji asked curiously.
The Yula did something with its tiny mouth which might have been the equivalent of a smile. “I have well-informed friends.”
“Then your friends should’ve told you that its fate is not for you to decide.” Trondheim glanced in Ranji’s direction. “There’s a sled on its way here now. How are you going to explain their dead specimen to them when they arrive?”
“We did not think of that.” The Hivistahm scanned the sky uneasily. “Truly we did not think of that.”
“Be quiet!” Teoth snapped. “The female attempts to preserve the monster’s life with the aid of a fabrication.” He aimed the pistol. “This will only take an instant and then we will be away from this place.”
“As a Human soldier of the Weave I am ordering you to turn your weapons and this prisoner over to me!” Trondheim took a step toward the triped, eyes glittering. “Or are you going to shoot me, too?”
“You may kill me after, but that does not matter.” Teoth was calm, anesthetized by the prospect of incipient martyrdom. “My life is not important. I gladly die to preserve my world from this creature. If word of its presence was made known there would be panic. The Weave had no right to bring it here. Omaphil is peaceful and civilized. I shall insure that it so remains.” It looked back at Ranji.
“Do not attempt to convince me otherwise. I was on the ship with it. I watched, and I know.”
“Word won’t get out,” Trondheim told him.
Teoth made a gargling sound deep in his throat. “It has already escaped custody once.”
“It won’t happen again.” She spoke slowly and deliberately.
For the first time, the Yula seemed to hesitate. “Can you guarantee that? Can you assure it beyond doubt? I think not. Its presence here says not. Better it should die.”
Trondheim advanced another step and extended a hand. She was quite close to the native now, Ranji noted. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. If you’re going to shoot it, then you’re going to have to kill me, too. Now give me that pistol.”
The use of the Human command tone shook Ranji slightly. Unsurprisingly, it rattled the Yula even more. As soon as the weapon’s muzzle had drifted sufficiently toward the woman, Ranji moved.
The sandy gravel he kicked up struck the Yula in the face. It uttered a high-pitched squeak, dropped the gun, and clawed at its eyes with the instinctive reaction of a nonfighter. Ranji pivoted and leaped to within arm’s length of the Hivistahm. Bug-eyed, it fired wildly as Trondheim dove for cover. Neatly severed by the stinger, a large branch tumbled from a nearby tree.
As he landed Ranji brought his closed fist around in a sweeping arc to strike the Hivistahm in the left eye. Fragile occipital bones crunched and blood squirted. The much smaller, reptilian creature gave a slight shudder and collapsed onto its haunches, then onto its side.
Brushing grit from sensitive eyes, the Yula bent
its fore-center leg and reached to recover its weapon. As it did so Ranji spied a fist-sized stone, snatched it up, aimed and threw all in one motion. A Human or Massood might have been able to dodge, but the Yula was not nearly so quick. The rock struck it above the middle eye, denting fur and bone both. It exhaled reverberantly and fell backward.
Panting hard, he stood wondering at the psychosis which would drive a Yula and Hivistahm to such a confrontation. Before he could come up with any answers, something heavy hit him in the ribs. Much more massive than a Yula or Hivistahm, it sent him sprawling.
Trondheim rolled off him and scrambled for the pistol still clutched in the motionless Hivistahm’s fingers. Ignoring the pain in his side, Ranji flung himself in pursuit, landing on the back of her thighs. She twisted and pain shot through his whole body as her elbow connected with his nose.
Wrenching the pistol from the unconscious alien, she whirled and fired, aiming to wound, not kill. Ranji froze, waiting for the bolt from the stinger to take effect. Nothing happened. Frowning, she sighted carefully along the barrel and fired again.
An unsmiling Ranji climbed to his feet and charged.
It all made perfect sense. The Yula had been very much in command, just as it had been quite mad. Not being possessed by a similarly extreme form of insanity, the Hivistahm had agreed to provide backup … but could not bring itself to handle a loaded weapon capable of killing another intelligent being. The stinger it had carried was not charged. It didn’t really need to be, since their quarry wouldn’t know otherwise.
He did now.
Trondheim threw the useless weapon at him and made a dive for the Yula’s gun. She would have beaten a normal Ashregan to it, but not Ranji. It was his turn to hit her hard in the ribs. She wheezed painfully and tried to use the elbow again, but this time he was ready for it and the blow caught him harmlessly on the shoulder. As it did so he brought the edge of his palm down against the side of her neck and she went limp.
Panting hard, he rose slowly and picked up the Yula’s stinger, not taking his eyes off her as he did so. Next he walked back to the Hivistahm and recovered her heat pistol. Only then did he allow himself to relax a little. He took his time rearranging the backpack and service belt, sorting through the pack’s contents as he waited for her partial paralysis to wear off.
The Damned Trilogy Page 49
