by Neal Asher
‘Why do they do it?’ Anders asked as we scrambled along a vertical face.
‘Do what?’
‘Snatch people to make up their sevens.’
‘Three reasons I’ve heard: optimum number for survival, or seven sheq required for successful mating, or the start of a primitive religion.’
‘Which do you believe it is?’
‘Probably a bit of them all.’
As we drew closer, I could hear Tameera sobbing in terror, pure fatigue, and self-pity. The six sheq were close around her, nudging her along, catching her feet when they slipped, grabbing her hands and placing them in firmer holds. I could also see that her dark green slicksuit was spattered with a glutinous yellow substance, and felt my gorge rising at what else she had suffered. They had tried to feed her.
We halted about twenty metres behind on a seventy-degree slope and watched as Tameera was badgered towards where it tilted upright then past the vertical.
‘How do we play this?’ Tholan asked.
‘We have to get to her before they start negotiating that.’ I pointed at the lethal terrain beyond the sheq. ‘ One mistake there and…’ I gestured below to tilted slabs jutting from undergrowth, half hidden under fog generated by a nearby waterfall. I didn’t add that we probably wouldn’t even be able to find the body; despite the tracker Tameera evidently wore. ‘We’ll have to run a line to her. Anders can act as the anchor. She’ll have to make her way above, and probably best if she takes Tameera’s clawframe with her. You’ll go downslope to grab Tameera if anything goes wrong and she falls. I’ll go in with the line and the harness.’
‘You’ve done this before?’ Anders asked.
‘Have you?’ I countered.
‘Seems you know how to go about it,’ Tholan added.
‘Just uploads from the planetary Almanac.’
‘Okay, we’ll do it like you said,’ he agreed.
I’d noticed all three of them carried fancy monofilament climbing winders on their belts. Anders set hers unwinding its line, which looked thick as rope with cladding applied to the monofilament on its way out. I took up the ring end of the line and attached the webbing harness Tholan produced from one of his pack’s many pockets.
‘Set?’ I asked.
They both nodded, Tholan heading downslope and Anders up above. Now all I had to do was get to Tameera through the sheq and strap her into the harness.
As I drew closer, the creatures began to notice me and those insectile heads swung towards me, probosces pulsating as if they were sniffing.
‘Tameera … Tameera!’
She jerked her head up, yellow gunk all around her mouth and spattered across her face. ‘Help me!’
‘I’ve got a line here and a harness,’ I told her, but I wasn’t sure if she understood.
I was about three metres away when the sheq that had been placing her foot on a thick root growing across the face of stone abruptly spun and scrambled towards me. Tholan’s Optek crashed and I saw the explosive exit wound open in the creature’s jade-green torso – a flower of yellow and pink. It sighed, sagged, but did not fall – its eight-fingered hands tangled in verdancy. The other sheq dived for safer holds and pulled close to the rock-face.
‘What the fuck!’
‘Just get the harness on her!’ Tholan bellowed.
I moved in fast, not so much because he ordered it but because I didn’t want him blowing away more of the creatures. Tameera was lethargic at first, but then she began to get the idea. Harness on, I moved aside.
‘Anders!’
Anders had obviously seen, because she drew the line taut through greenery and began hauling Tameera upwards, away from sheq now beginning to nose in confusion towards their second dead member. Stripped-off line cladding fell like orange snow. I reached out, shoved the dead sheq, once, twice, and it tumbled down the slope, the rest quickly scrambling after it. Tholan was moving aside, looking up at me. I gestured to a nearby mount with a flat top on which we could all gather.
‘Got her!’ Anders called.
Glancing up I saw Anders installing Tameera in the other clawframe. ‘Over there!’ I gestured to the mount. Within a few minutes we were all on the small area of level stone, gazing down towards where the five remaining sheq had caught their companion, realized it was dead and released it again, and were now zipping about like wasps disturbed from a nest.
‘We should head back to the blimp, fast as you like.’
No one replied because Tameera chose that moment to vomit noisily. The stench was worse even than that from the glutinous yellow stuff all over her.
‘What?’ said Anders.
‘They fed her,’ I explained.
That made Anders look just as sick.
Finally sitting up, then detaching her arms from her clawframe, Tameera stared at her brother and held out her hand. He unhitched his pack, drew out her Optek rifle and handed it over. She fired from that sitting position, bowling one of the sheq down the distant slope and the subsequent vertical drop.
‘Look you can’t—’
The barrel of Tholan’s Optek was pointing straight at my forehead.
‘We can,’ he said.
I kept my mouth shut as, one by one, Tameera picked off the remaining sheq and sent them tumbling down into the mist-shrouded river canyon. It was only then that we returned to the slab campsite.
*
Blue again, but I was certainly ready for sleep and felt a surge of resentment when the blimp cabin began shaking. Someone was coming up the ladder, then walking round the catwalk. Shortly, Anders opened the airtight door and hauled herself inside. I saw her noting with some surprise how the passenger cabin converted into living quarters. I was ensconced in the cockpit chair, sipping a glass of whisky, feet up on the console. She turned off her oxygen supply, tried the air in the cabin, then sat down on the corner of the fold-down bed, facing me.
‘Does it disgust you?’ she asked.
I shrugged. Tried to stay nonchalant. What was happening below didn’t bother me, her presence in my cabin did.
She continued, ‘There’s no reason to be disgusted. Incest no longer has the consequences it once had. All genetic faults can be corrected in the womb…’
‘Did I say I was disgusted? Perhaps it’s you, why else are you up here?’
She grimaced. ‘Well they do get noisy.’
I’m sure it won’t last much longer,’ I said. ‘Then you can return to your tent.’
‘You’re not very warm are you?’
‘Just wary – I know the kind of games you people play.’
‘You people?’
‘The bored and the wealthy.’
I’m Tholan’s PA. I’m an employee.’
I sat there feeling all resentful, my resentment increased because of course she was right. I should not have lumped her in the same category as Tholan and his sister. She was in fact in my category. She had also casually just knocked away one of my defences.
‘Would you like a drink?’ I eventually asked, my mouth dry.
Now I expected her righteous indignation and rejection. But Anders was more mature than that, more dangerous.
‘Yes, I would.’ As she said it, she undid the stick seams of her boots and kicked them off. Then she detached the air hose from her throat plug, coiled it back to the bottle, then unhooked that from her belt and put it on the floor. I hauled myself from my chair and poured her a whisky, adding ice from my recently installed little fridge.
‘Very neat,’ she said, accepting the drink. As I made to step past her and return to the cockpit chair, she caught hold of my forearm and pulled me down beside her.
‘You know,’ I said, that if we don’t report what happened today that would make us accessories. That could mean readjustment, even mind-wipe.’
‘Are you hetero?’ she asked.
I nodded. She put her hand against my chest and pushed me back on to the bed. I let her do it – lay back. She stood up, looking down at me as she drai
ned her whisky. Then she undid her trousers, dropped them and kicked them away, then climbed astride me still wearing her shirt and very small briefs. Still staring at me she undid my trousers, freed my erection, then pulling aside the crutch of her briefs, slowly slid down onto me. Then she began to grind back and forth.
‘Just come,’ she said, when she saw my expression. ‘You’ve got all night to return the favour.’ I managed to hold on for about another thirty seconds. It had been a while. Afterwards, we stripped naked, and I did return the favour. And then we spent most of the blue doing things to each other normally reserved for those for whom straight sex has become a source of ennui.
‘You know, Tholan will pay a great deal for your silence, one way or another.’
I understood that Tholan might not pay me for my silence. I thought her telling me this worthy of the punishment I then administered, and which she noisily enjoyed, muffling her face in the pillow.
We slept a sleep of exhaustion through midark.
Tameera wanted trophies. She wanted a pair of sheq heads to cunningly preserve and mount on the gateposts either side of the drive to her and Tholan’s property on Earth. Towards the end of morning blue, we ate recon rations and prepared to set out. I thought it pointless to tell them of the penalties for possessing trophies from class-C sentients. They’d already stepped so far over the line it was a comparatively minor crime.
‘What we need to discuss is my fee,’ I said.
‘Seems to me he’s already had some payment,’ said Tameera, eyeing Anders.
Tholan shot her a look of annoyance and turned back to me. ‘Ten times what I first offered. No one needs to know.’
‘Any items you bring back you’ll carry in your stuff,’ I said.
I wondered at their arrogance. Maybe they’d get away with it – we’d know soon enough upon our return to the citadel – but most likely, a drone had tagged one of the sheq, and as the creature died, a satellite eye had recorded the event. The way I saw it, I could claim I had been scared they would kill me, and had only kept up the criminal façade until we reached safety. Of course, if they did get away with what they’d done, there was no reason why I shouldn’t benefit.
While we prepared, I checked the map in my palm com, input our position and worked out an easier course than the one we had taken the day before. The device would keep us on course even though Tholan had allowed no satellite link-up. By the sun, by its own elevation, the time, and by reading the field strength of Myral’s magnetosphere, the device kept itself accurately located on the map I’d loaded from the planetary Almanac.
We went over the edge as the octupals slurped and splashed in their pools and the sun flung arc-welder light across the land. This time we took it easy on third-assist, also stopping for meals and rest. During one of these breaks I demonstrated how to use a portable stove to broil a rock conch in its shell, but Tholan was the only one prepared to sample the meat. I guess it was a man thing. As we travelled I pointed out flowering spider vines, their electric red male flowers taking to the air in search of the blowsy yellow female flowers: these plants and their pollinating insects having moved beyond the symbiosis seen on Earth to become one. Then, the domed heads of octupals rising out of small rock pools to blink bulbous gelatinous eyes at the evening blue, we moored our blister tents on a forty-degree slope.
Anders connected my tent to hers, whilst a few metres away Tholan and Tameera connected theirs. No doubt they joined their sleeping bags in the same way we did. Sex, in a tent fixed to such a slope, with a sleeping bag also moored to the rock through the groundsheet, was a bit cramped. But it was enjoyable and helped to pass most of the long night. Sometime during midark I came half awake to the sound of a voice. ‘ Slabber gebble-crab’ and ‘speg bruglor nomp’ were its nonsensical utterances. The yelling and groaning from Tholan, in morning blue, I thought due to he and his sister’s lovemaking. But in full morning I had to pick octupal stings from the fabric of my tent, and I saw that Tholan wore a dressing on his cheek.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘I just stuck my damned head out,’ he replied.
‘What treatment have you used?’
‘Unibiotic and antallergens.’
‘That should do it.’
Shame I didn’t think to ask why he wanted to leave his tent and go creeping about in the night. That I attributed the strange voice in midark to dream influenced things neither one way nor the other.
It was only a few hours into the new day that we reached the flat-topped mount from which Tameera had slaughtered the remaining sheq. I studied the terrain through my monocular and realized how the excitement of our previous visit here had blinded me to just how dangerous this area was. There wasn’t a slope below seventy degrees and many of the river valleys and canyons running between the jagged rocks below were full of rolling mist. Clawframes or not, this was about as bad as it could get.
‘Well, that’s where they should be,’ said Tholan, lowering his own monocular and pointing to a wider canyon floored with mist out of which arose the grumble of a river.
‘If they haven’t been swept away,’ I noted.
Ignoring me, he continued, ‘We’ll work down from where they fell. Maybe some of them got caught in the foliage.’
From the mount, we travelled down, across a low ridge, then up onto the long slope from which we had rescued Tameera. I began to cut down diagonally, and Anders followed me while Tameera and Tholan kept moving up high to where the sheq had been, though why they were going there I had no idea, for we had seen every one fall. Anders was above me when I began to negotiate a whorled hump of stone at the shoulder of a cliff. I thought I could see a sheq caught in some foliage down there. As I was peering through the mist, Anders screamed above me. I had time only to glance up, and drive my frame’s fingers into stone when she barrelled into me. We both went over. Half detached from her frame, she clung around my neck. I looked up to where two fingers of my frame held us suspended. I noted that her frame – the property of Tholan and Tameera – was dead weight. Then I looked higher and guessed why.
Brother and sister were scrambling down towards us, saying nothing, not urging us to hang on. I guessed that was precisely what they did not want us to do. It must have been frustrating for Tholan: the both of us in one tent that could have been cut from its moorings – two witnesses lost in the unfortunate accident – but sting-shooting molluscs preventing him from committing the dirty deed. I reached round with my free claw and tightly gripped Anders’s belt, swung my foot claws in and gripped the rock-face with them.
‘Get the frame off.’
She stared at me in confusion, then looked up the slope and I think all the facts clicked into the place. Quickly, while I supported her, she undid her frame’s straps, leaving the chest straps until last. It dropped into the mist: a large chrome harvestman spider … a dead one.
‘Okay, round onto my back and cling on tightly.’
She swung round quickly. Keeping to third-assist – any higher assistance and the frame might move too fast for her to hang on – I began climbing down the cliff to the mist. The first Optek bullet ricocheted off stone by my face. The second ricochet, by my hand, was immediately followed by an animal grunt from Anders. Something warm began trickling down my neck and her grip loosened.
Under the mist, a river thrashed its way between tilted slabs. I managed to reach one such half-seen slab just before Anders released her hold completely as she fainted. I laid her down and inspected her wound. The ricochet had hit her cheekbone and left a groove running up to her temple. It being a head wound, there was a lot of blood, but it didn’t look fatal if I could get her medical attention. But doing anything now with the medical kits we both carried seemed suicidal. I could hear the mutter of Tameera and Tholan’s voices from above – distorted by the mist. Then, closer, and lower down by the river, another voice:
‘Shabra tabul. Nud lockock ocker,’ something said.
It was like hiding in t
he closet from an intruder, only to have something growl right next to you. Stirred by the constant motion of the river, the mist slid through the air in banners, revealing and concealing. On the slab, we were five metres above the gravelled riverbank upon which the creature squatted. Its head was level with me. Anders chose that moment to groan and I slapped my hand over her mouth. The creature was pyramidal, all but one of its three pairs of arms folded complacently over the jut of its lower torso. In one huge black claw it held the remains of a sheq. With the fore-talon of another claw, it was levering a trapped bone from the white holly-thorn lining of its duck bill. The tiara of green eyes below its domed skull glittered.
‘Brong da bulla,’ it stated, having freed the bone and flung it away.
It was no consolation to realize that the sheq corpses had attracted the gabbleduck here. Almost without volition, I crouched lower, hoping it did not see me, hoping that if it did, I could make myself appear less appetizing. My hands shaking, I reached down and began taking line off the winder at Anders’s belt. The damned machine seemed so noisy and the line far too bright an orange. I got enough to tie around my waist as a precaution, then I undid the straps to her pack and eased her free of that encumbrance. Now I could slide her down towards the back of the slab, taking us out of the creature’s line of sight, but that would put me in the foliage down there and it would be sure to hear me. I decided to heave her up, throw her over my shoulder, and just get out of there as fast as I could. But just then, a bullet smacked into the column of my clawframe and knocked me down flat, the breath driven out of me.
I rolled over, looking towards the gabbleduck as I did so. I felt my flesh creep. It was gone. Something that huge had no right to be able to move so quickly and stealthily. Once on my back I gazed up at Tholan and his sister as they came down the cliff. My clawframe was heavy and dead, and so too would I be, but whether by bullet or chewed up in that nightmare bill was debatable.
