by Steve Perry
“It’s some kind of big lizard being attacked by smaller creatures.”
Attila nodded. “I can’t tell what kind, and I can’t see what the creatures are.”
“I have a suspicion. And if they’re what I think they are, I don’t want to go hovering around in that area.” She pointed down to another adjacent plain. “I’ve got to have a look, though.”
“I was afraid of that,” said Attila. “Can’t we just zip over and take some pictures?”
She shook her head. “If they’re what I think they are, they’ll know we know about them, and I’m not sure that’s good.”
“Better to be safe than sorry.”
“And what is knowledge and the value of surveillance and intelligence?”
“Power,” Attila said in a small voice.
“Exactly.”
They landed.
“I want you to stay here,” she said.
“Look, I may act truculent, but my job is to be by your side.”
“I appreciate that, Attila. However, I need you here to keep the engines going in case we need a speedy takeoff.”
“Perhaps I should go and reconnoiter and you can stay here.”
“What? And let me miss all the fun? Besides, you’re the reluctant one, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps I am the careful one.”
“Precisely. And I appreciate that. Sometimes, though, there are things that have to be done. And, Attila, this is something I have to do. This could be the key to everything.”
“You could get yourself killed, too.”
She shrugged. “Obviously. I also could have fallen out of my bureaucratic chair back on Dullworld and broken my neck. Now keep things revved up here. I won’t be long.”
She grabbed the camera, a blaster, and a weapons belt and hopped out of the copter, giving the rotors a wide berth. Quickly she loped up the grassy knoll separating the fields and then skulked through a large copse of trees. She was glad the copter was quiet; if the subjects of her quest here were as involved as she thought they were, they wouldn’t have noticed the copter at its distance. She supposed they should have gotten just close enough to get a make on them and split. However, something deep inside her wanted some action, wanted to get closer. Was she being reckless? She thought not. There was something more down here than could be recorded through a telescopic lens.
And she had to see it for herself.
She made her way through the trees and underbrush, finally coming out through a glen to a perch above the clearing. Halfway through she began to hear the sounds of a most peculiar battle. Roars and snarls and cries. She could smell blood and conflict in the air.
She looked out.
Standing on its hind legs in the slight valley below, lunging and slashing at its attackers, was a thirty-foot-tall beast with a tail the size of a large tree, teeth and claws the size of butcher knives.
The attackers were ten yautja.
They could have been members of her old pack. But, then, Predators had no particularly variable fashion consciousness. They pretty much all wore the same kinds of clothing and armor. They were using spears and other manual weapons do deal with the creature, although a couple stood in the background with plasma pushers. This was a baiting game, clearly, not particularly in the realm of honorable.
She’d somehow expected to see Predators here and was glad that her hunches were paying off. It was good to have that knowledge. However, the beast provided the biggest surprise.
She’d never seen it before. She recognized it from books.
It was a tyrannosaurus rex.
So that was one of the things that the big DNA factory had been up to. It made a lot of sense. She’d heard that the biotechnology was available to bring back monsters of the past not just from old DNA, but from actually building DNA patterns according to specifics. She had just never seen it in use before.
Hard to imagine it done on a more dramatic level.
This was a ferocious beast, carnivorous savagery gleaming in its beady eyes. Blood rivuleted from cuts in its side and front, and a spear poked from its neck. However, all those pricks and nicks seemed only to have enraged it further.
The Predators appeared to be actually on the verge of retreating—or of using their stronger weapons. Clearly, they had bitten off more than they could chew.
She took out some binocs to have a closer look. Ranged it over the warriors…
And stopped on one.
Oh, God.
Shorty.
She tried to correct the focus, but it was sharp as a pin. A little bigger, a little more battered, but all the armor and other visuals aligned—this was the Predator who hated her.
Too bad she couldn’t have killed him when she had the chance.
What was more, he seemed to be gesturing and carrying on as though he were in charge, orchestrating this odd exercise against the dinosaur. And not having a very good time, from the looks of it.
They were going to have to kill the beast, no question, and then immolate it or something; presumably the Hunters were operating secretly here, just as they always had on populated planets, and they wouldn’t want their presence known. Should Evanston find one of his T-rexes dead from a spear wound (or blaster burns), he’d certainly have a better take on the mysterious things happening on his world.
Her mind was spinning with conjecture and speculation.
So much so, that she hardly heard the sound of the leaves rustling, the snapping of a twig.
Nonetheless, something deeper alerted her: a rising of her hackles, a deeper instinctual alarm.
She turned and saw the Hunter behind the tree.
Instantly, she realized how lucky she’d been. Doubtless, if they’d realized they would have had to deal with intelligent prey, they would have worn their cloaks. This bastard might have sneaked right up on her—
But then again, after living with them, after working with them, she rather doubted it.
Anyway, it gave her warning. The fact that he wasn’t there to make friends was immediately apparent. He had his own blaster and was raising it to fire.
She was fast with her own, but not fast enough.
Nonetheless, at the same time, she was able to jump back and away. The edge of the jagged spout of energy caught the bore of her own weapon, and she let it go. It slammed against a tree and exploded. She rode the force, tumbling down, a hill. Leaping to her feet, she used the momentum of her fall to give her a head start.
By the time the Predator swung around to shoot at her again, she was well away, running through a batch of tree boles.
She weaved helter-skelter.
Dodged.
Bark exploded next to her. She could feel the burn of the weapon’s blast but did not take a moment to look back. She dived behind the bole of another tree, careful not to allow the vines growing at its base to impede her. Just down the glade, sunlight poured through an opening that she’d come through to get her view of the proceedings on the other side of the hill. If she could get through there, she’d have a clear run for the copter. Attila, seeing her coming, would be ready to take off immediately, and they’d have a chance.
She leaped down the hill.
Ran into the clearing.
All the while behind her she heard the sounds of crashing pursuit.
She wondered if she should stop and make her stand. She had a pistol, and she could hide behind a tree. If worst came to worst, she could use the knife in her boot. The Hunter had a blaster, and even if they got off the ground, theoretically he could take a successful shot and destroy them both.
One of Machiko’s talents was for quick, good decisions. Had she still been running with the pack, had she still been in that honor-is-everything frame of mind, doubtless she would have spun around and attacked her attacker.
However, her gut instinct was that her best hope for survival was to run for the copter.
Besides, life was just getting good.
She broke through into the clear
ing, began running for her life. Machiko noted to herself that next time she went on one of these little jaunts, she was going to bring along a radio unit. She just hadn’t intended to leave the copter—this was supposed to be only a quick reconnaissance. Anyway, she had to live now with the realization that she couldn’t contact Attila.
Which was unfortunate, in light of the fact that when she stormed down that ridge pell-mell, there was no sign of copter or Attila.
She hardly paused. She kept on running. Across the clearing were more woods and cover. If she could make that, there was a chance.
The thought pounded in her head, though:
What happened to Attila?
A blast ripped a fiery divot just to her right side. She zigzagged, dodging any other burst. In doing so she caught sight of the Predator, pounding into the sunlight, armed and ready for anything. Hardly a sight fiercer in the universe, and this was no ground on which to fight the bastard.
Her lungs aching, she hurled herself toward her objective.
She expected to feel the blast of a bolt in her back at any moment. No, she thought. No, came the voice of the warrior in her.
Better to meet death head-on.
Challenge.
She wouldn’t make it to the other side of the clearing. This guy would be too good a shot. She had to rely on something she knew well—
The warrior’s ego.
Standing in the open, seemingly unarmed, she doubted the Predator would kill her.
Not without allowing her a fight.
Unless, of course, things had changed, which didn’t seem likely.
She was just in the act of turning when she heard an explosion.
Her instinct slammed her down onto the ground immediately, but her peripheral vision caught the action.
The top of the Hunter’s body simply blew apart in a gale of fire and blood. Shards of armor and limbs and skull and bone went every which way, as if a ripe metal pumpkin had just exploded.
The remainder of the body teetered, fell.
Machiko hit the dirt, rolled. The taste of rich loam and blood was in her mouth, but she hardly noticed.
A familiar whooshing…
A dark form swooped down toward her…
She raised her pistol but then lowered it.
The grav copter lowered itself, drew even with her.
The door flapped open.
She didn’t need an invitation.
She jumped, catching hold of the ladder and quickly pulling herself up and over the lip of the door. In a flash she was into the passenger seat, the door closed behind her.
Attila pulled the vehicle up and over the tops of the trees, heading back for Evanstonville.
“Are you all right?” he asked, hands steady on the controls.
“Yes… yes.” She shook her head and shot a look back at the biological wreckage. “How—?”
“I hadn’t realized it before, Machiko, but this copter seems to be very well armed. That little exhibition, for example, was the result of a first-rate rocket launcher.”
She took a deep breath. They’d already jumped a goodly distance. Some of the adrenaline was seeping out of her, replaced by surprise.
“Attila, I didn’t know you could fly a copter.”
“An unexplored area of my programming. When I detected the fracas in the woods, I assumed you would return, most likely pursued. I thought it would be best to reach a firing point at which I would be able to deal with a maximum of pursuers.”
“Good choice. I thought you’d left me.”
The self-satisfied look on Attila’s face melted. “Machiko. I would never do such a thing.”
“No. No, of course not I’m sorry. Thanks. Good move. Now let’s get back to home base.”
“To confront Livermore Evanston on this matter?”
“No. We’ve got to give the situation some thought first.” She remembered then to buckle her harness. “The Hunters are doing their bug thing—but why here?”
12
“It seems obvious to me,” said Attila the Hun, lying on the bed in a relaxed state.
Machiko Noguchi stopped her pacing. She looked at her android warily. Since that little flying stunt a couple hours before, she was seeing him in an entirely different light.
She knew he’d had a “life” before she’d bought him. She didn’t know about the programs that still existed inside him. What other residues of past talents, past memories, existed? Attila insisted that he had no memory of being able to do what he did—at the time his sensors detected trouble, something had just kicked in, and he’d had access.
This was something they would have to explore. For now, though, there were other matters to attend to.
“I’m glad. Would you care to enlighten me?” she said, hands on hips.
“You’ll have to pardon me, but I’m merely operating on what you tell me about the Hunters—your tales of your experiences with them.”
“Yes, yes, go on.”
“Well, it strikes me that they’ve got a fairly simple game plan. They like to find likely opponents, likely places to perform their rituals of honor. And, frankly, think about it—Blior is perfect. If their lives are the feral art they consider them, then for Predators this must be a masterpiece planet.”
“A what?” Machiko asked.
“Masterpiece planet. It sounds as if Ryushi was being, used as a training ground for young Hunters.”
She nodded. “Blooding.”
“That was their apprentice work, then. Whatever the word has come to mean since then, a ‘masterpiece’ used to be the article a craftsperson made to earn his or her master status. Blior is the place Hunters may earn ‘master’ status, in effect.”
She nodded. “Yes, well, that’s pretty obvious. But go on for a moment. Any other thoughts?”
“Yes. The reason it’s a masterpiece planet is that there’s nothing the Predators like to Hunt better than other hunters. It’s the ultimate challenge, right?”
“That’s right. Unlike our race, they won’t Hunt ‘innocent’ things—except possibly food.”
“A noble breed.” Sardonic twist of phrasing. “Anyway, somehow they discovered the operations on Blior, and they saw what a perfect place to Hunt it would be.”
“But why bring on the bugs as well?”
“A little twist, a little spice. Who can say? Perhaps this was a world where they’d already Hunted bugs before, and they were just returning.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. If there were bugs on this planet before, there would have been a spillage. That’s one of the problems when the Preds play with the things—they get loose and start breeding.”
“Sloppy sorts.”
“Let’s just say that their sense of honor is a bit tunnel-visioned.”
“So they’re here—and they know now that we know they’re here.”
“I think that’s what the lawyer was so excited about And unless my guess is wrong, Evanston’s got a suspicion as well.”
“More than a suspicion. I mean, he has physical evidence!”
“Yes.”
“He somehow seems to know you’re associated with them.”
“I don’t think he knows as much as he strongly suspects.”
“It stands to reason… after what happened…”
She let out a breath, shook her head. “The pieces still just aren’t there—”
“Seems pretty pat to me,” said Attila. “He’s got problems with anomalous intelligent creatures as well as the bugs—and he’s just trying to get this project off the ground. Can you imagine the bad publicity if word gets back to civilization? Why, this business venture would be a total bust! Who would want to go hunting on a world where the hunters are the victims? I dare say that Evanston is a rich man, but no matter how rich he is, I’m sure that he couldn’t afford a failure on this magnitude.” Attila nodded. “A man like Livermore Evanston takes time to go get you to help, you know it’s got to be this magnitude of importanc
e.”
“That does work… logically… but there’s another level.”
“Something intuitive?”
“Yes… that T-rex…”
“Not a curious resurrection… Ideal, if you think of it… What with the taste for hunting as it is, I would think that resurrected dinosaurs would be perfect for hunting.”
“Yes, of course. I’m talking, though, about the level of sophistication a biolab needs to create the size and scope of a tyrannosaurus rex!”
“You’re saying that it could create a lot more… Well, isn’t that the idea? To create fantastical and wonderful creatures for rich people to shoot?”
“You’re not getting the point. What else can it create? Why is Evanston being so secretive? Why won’t he let us look at the inside of that big biolab factory?”
“He hasn’t refused—just his underlings.”
“Well, then, I guess that’s the next bit on our agenda, isn’t it? We’re going to have to ask.”
“And if he won’t let us see what’s inside?”
She smiled. “Then we’ll have to find out on our own, won’t we? And we’ll know that something intriguing is there.”
* * *
“Of course. I’ll take you through the factory tomorrow morning, if you like,” said Livermore Evanston, absently tapping ash from his cigar. “There are more serious matters that have to be dealt with immediately, though.” The large man leaned over his intercom, hit a button. “Would you send in Brookings and Zorski, please?”
Machiko had to work hard to maintain a blank expression. This wasn’t exactly what she’d expected. Attila was going to give her a great big “I told you so” when she let go of this bit of news.
Evanston was sitting in a comfortable ergonomic chair, in a comfortable smoking jacket. His perch in his office building gave him a panoramic view of most of the beautiful, growing expanse of this fabulous settlement that would soon be one of the more wondrous cities in the universe.
Evanston did not look his usual happy and confident self.
