The Wolf Worlds

by Chris Bunch

  She gave Alex a deep soulful look. Alex slowly pulled his hand away.

  "Do you think." she began, then: "No. I could never ask. I am still an unblooded warrior. How could a man like you…"

  Alex tried to be kind.

  "Nae. lass, it cannae be. Ahm beit sorry, but we must be friends noo. Nae more."

  Di!n sighed a maidenly sigh of disappointment, belched, and passed the gourd back to Alex to drink.

  "Fascinating," Bet said. "Fascinating."

  She politely covered a yawn. It wasn't just the beer, although beer had always made Bet sleepy. It was the beer plus her companion. Acau/lay.

  The warrior Sten had defeated was the tribe's champion. And as champion, it was also his duty to be the Stra!bo historian. Just then he was giving Bet a thrust-by-parry account of the tribe's beginnings.

  The history of Stra!bo was its wars. Normally there was nothing Bet liked better than war stories. But some time ago. the Stra!bo and the other tribes had realized that the millennia of slaughter had to stop. Still, there remained the problem of how young warriors could be blooded, to become adult men and women. Thus the creation of the highly formalized champion-against-champion combat.

  The ritual. Bet guessed, had begun about two hundred thousand years ago. And Acau/lay knew the details of each combat. It was a strange kind of a Jacob begat whomever history.

  "… And then in the year of the burning grass." Acau/lay droned on. "Meinlers slew Cal/icut and there was a great feasting… In the following year. Chlintu slew the Stra!bo champion, Shhun!te, and there was a great mourning…"

  Bet glanced over at Sten for possible help, then cursed to herself. He was pointedly staying out of it. drunkenly babbling to the chief.

  "… And in the year of the rains, the Trader's champion…"

  Bet came wide awake.

  "Traders?" she asked. "What traders? And when?"

  Acau/lay was delighted at her sudden display of interest. He had at one point begun to suspect his guest was bored, but on reflection dismissed the thought for the silliness it was.

  "Just traders." he said. "Beings like you. It was—perhaps five hundred combats ago. Our champion defeated theirs. We exchanged many presents, and they left.

  "Let me see now. I think their champion's name was—"

  "Never mind that." Bet broke in. "Do the traders still come?"

  "Of course," Acau/lay said with some surprise. "They come very regularly. Are we not friends? Do friends not wish to visit often and exchange gifts?"

  "How often do they visit?"

  "About every thirty days. In fact, they were here not long ago."

  Acau/lay took a slurp from the gourd. "We thought you were their rivals."

  Bet jabbed Sten.

  "These… traders," Sten asked carefully. "Different, you say." He hiccuped. "Are you sure they aren't just from another part of this world?"

  "Could I, Nem!i. chief of all the Stra!bo"—he belched— "become that confused?"

  "Drinkin" this yak-pee," Bet said, "easily." Acau/lay had already passed out beside her.

  "Do herdsmen have gray rafts that float in the air instead of the water? Do herdsmen have their huts shaped like fish, that can also fly through the air?"

  "Offworlders," Sten said with satisfaction.

  "And will you take us to these traders'?" Bet asked. She sounded almost sober.

  "For my new friends, who have been blooded by the rites of the Stra!bo…tomorrow or the next feast day I will send you, accompanied by my best warriors."

  "We thank you, chief," Sten said, realizing he was starting to sound about as formally drunk as Nem!i.

  "It is, I must say," the old chief wheezed, "a long and hard journey of some thirty risings and settings of the sun."

  "Nem!i, what're the hazards that…"

  Bet stopped. Nem!i had sagged gently against Sten and started snoring. Sten and Bet looked at each other. Bet shrugged and picked up another gourd.

  "Well," Bet said, "I guess we'll be able to get off this… charming world and not have to spend the rest of our days drinking blood and pushing calcium critters around. So shall we follow the example of the noble Nem!i'?"

  "Why not," Sten said, and took the gourd. It seemed as good an idea as any other.

  Chapter Five

  STEN CAME AWAKE to the glare of an evil, yellow sun that was hurling spears through the cracks of the hut. He moaned gently and shut his eyes.

  His head felt like a thousand—no, two thousand—ungulates had hooved through his brain, then paused to graze and defecate on his tongue.

  Someone stirred next to him.

  "I think I'm gonna die." he said, holding his eyes tightly shut.

  "You are," Ida answered.

  "Shut up. Ida. I'm not kidding."

  "Neither am I. We're all gonna die."

  Sten came fully awake. Sat up and stared through bloody eyes at the rest of the group already up and glooming around the sleeping hut.

  "For once." Bet said, "Ida isn't exaggerating. We've got some kind of bug. And it's gonna kill us in about…"

  "Twenty days," Ida said.

  "Clot on that." Alex said. "At the moment Ah need a wee bit of the dog that gnawed the dirty Campbell if Ah'm gonna see the end of this day."

  Sten ignored this. "Would you mind explaining what's going on?"

  Ida flicked her hand scanner on Medic-probe and gave it to Sten. He peered at the tiny screen. And found another creature staring back at him with DNA hate in its single-glowing protein eye.

  The Bug, as Bet had called it, was a rippling blue ribbon with the thinnest of green edges to mark the boundaries of its form. Spotted about its perimeter were tiny, bright red dots, like so many gun nests.

  "What the clot is is?"

  "Some kind of a mycoplasm," Ida said. "Note, it is a cell, but it has no cell walls. It's probably the oldest life-form in the Galaxy. It's mean, lean, and hungry. And we've been breathing in millions of them since we landed. Interesting that mycoplasms do occur in areas of volcanic activity."

  "I'm not interested in its lifestyle, Ida. What about our own?"

  "Like I said, Sten, twenty days."

  "No prophylaxis?"

  "None—except getting offworld."

  "Twenty days," Bet mused. "Which puts us ten days short of the traders' post."

  Sten rubbed his head, which was moving from the gong solo to the tympani section of the program, then looked back up at his equally gloomy friends.

  "Fine news. Now what else can go wrong?"

  And above them the air split open with a blinding shriek. The hut shook, and a cloud of insects from the thatched roof floated down about them.

  Sten and the others ran outside, to see the Jann ship scuttling across the sky.

  Alex turned to Sten, smiling oddly. "Y'beit tha luckiest lad Ah'm knowit," he said, then pointed up at the Turnmaa as it climbed, then banked back toward the Stra!bo village, braked, and settled for a landing.

  "If die we mus', tha wee beastie'll hae to stan' in line."

  Chapter Six

  "IN THE NAME OF TALAMEIN WE DEMAND THAT YOU DELIVER UP THE OFFWORLDERS."

  The Jannisar captain's voice boomed across the savannah, drowning out even the chants of a thousand warriors drawn up before his ship.

  A forest of spears shook back in defiance.

  "It's bloody foolishness," Alex said.

  Sten, Alex, and the others were hiding in a small grove of trees watching the confrontation.

  Sten had to admire the Janns' efficiency. They were very well trained soldiers. The ship had landed. Before the dust of the ship's landing had a chance to settle, the Janns had swarmed out, dug in, sandbagged, and set up their squad automatic projectile weapons.

  On the ship itself, the top-turret chain-gun moved back and forth, tracing the line of warriors.

  It reminded Sten of the volcanic mycoplasm hunting in their veins. The mycoplasm with its hateful DNA swinging back and forth, waiting for the pounce.
/>   "IN THE NAME OF TALAMEIN…"

  "We can't let this happen." Bet said, rising to her feet. The others—even Doc—rose with her. Sten started out of the trees first.

  And then they heard Acau/lay's cry for combat.

  "/ARI!CIA!"

  "/ARI!CIA!"

  Acau/lay stepped away from the crowd and stalked toward the ship. He was carrying the bundle of weapons—a gift for the enemy he would slay with love in the grove.

  "/ARI!CIA!" He cried again. Coming to a stop in front of the waving turret of the chain-gun.

  "S'BE'T," the Jann captain's voice boomed back.

  Acau/lay hurled the bundle of weapons down on the ground. Drew back, pointing at the grove of trees and urging the ritual combat.

  "/ARI!CIA!"

  "/Ari!…"

  And the chain-gun boomed out. Cutting off Acau/lay's final cry to fight. The projectiles stitched across him, literally cutting him in half.

  As one body, the warriors hurled themselves forward, and all the Jann guns opened up instantly, cutting and spewing fire. Before the Mantis team could move, a hundred Stra!bo were dying on the ground and the others were fleeing.

  In a crazy moment. Bet remembered Acau/lay telling her of the Stra!bo pride. In their two-million-year history they had never broke and run.

  The tear-runnels had dried, but still marked Nem!i's cheekbones. He and Alex lay below the crest of the low hill overlooking the Jann cruiser.

  "If these men are beyond custom, then they are beyond the law," the alien whispered.

  "Y'ken right," Alex said. "Ae Ah said b'fore, they're naught better'n ae scum a' Campbells."

  Sten lay on the hilltop, binoc-lenses carefully shielded from reflection, staring down at the cruiser.

  "If they do not have the law, then we cannot surrender our friends to them," Nem!i continued his careful analysis. He was still deeply shocked by Acau/lay's murder. "So this will mean…"

  Sten clicked the binocs off and back-slithered down the hill beside them. He'd overheard the last of Nem!i's whisper.

  "This will mean," he interrupted flatly, "that at night's fall we kill them. We kill them all."

  As the sun was occulted by the crater wall, an exterior speaker crackled:

  "Evening stand-to. All bow. Talamein, we thank thee for thy recognition of our might. We thank thee for our strength as Jannisars and for proclaiming our duty on this world of unbelievers."

  There was no movement around the cruiser as the black-uniformed troops listened to the prayer, except the endless, automatic sweep of the chain-gun's turret atop the ship.

  "We thank you in advance," the captain's voice rasped on, "for the boon which you will grant us on the morrow as our due for pursuing these unknown raiders. S'be't."

  The soldiers moved quietly into their nightwatch positions.

  "Why did your Sten not pick one of us, one of the Stra!bo, to begin the attack?" Di'n asked furiously.

  Bet deliberately kept stroking Hugin, even though both tigers had been given their instructions and should have been on their way. Ida didn't volunteer, either.

  "Because Sten respects your customs," she finally improvised. She picked herself up and eyed the ranked formation of Stra!bo warriors, hidden deep in the battle grove.

  "Knowing little of your laws, he felt that perhaps his methods—the methods of our team—might violate your customs."

  Di!n grunted in satisfaction. She returned to the endless stropping of her spearblade on the leather strap curled around her fingers.

  Bet looked down at the tiger. "Munin. Hugin. The cattle. Now."

  The tigers spun and bounced off into the gathering dusk, bounding deeper into the grassland that led out of the crater.

  Ah, nae ye're bonnie wee boys, Alex thought, watching the five-man Jann patrol approach the clump of brush he was flattened in.

  Ye hae not jus' the wee perimeter laddies, but rovin' patrols goin' to an' fro throughou' the night.

  Aye, an' here they come. Point mon, all alert an' stri-kit… patrol leader… aye, two weapons mons, an' th' wee tailgate.

  C'mon, laddies. Alex's waitin'.

  The patrol crept through the now almost total blackness past his clump of brush. Kilgour shouldered out of his weapons harness. Waiting.

  Eyes awa' fr'm 'em, he needlessly reminded himself. Dinna be lookin'… ah, they be passin'. Pass on, pass on horseman, his mind misquoted.

  The patrol, moving at a well-trained slowstep, silently passed the clump.

  And Alex came up and fell into step behind them. Step an' step an' y'ken we're in rhythm… an' now comin' up behind yon laddie…

  Alex's enormous fist, three-gee-world muscles bunched behind it, smashed into the back of the rearguard's neck. The Jann dropped without a sound. Alex caught him, eased him to the ground.

  There was no sound. The patrol eased forward, and Alex continued his creep.

  Nae, these twa'll be linked by th' weapons belt. A nit tricket if y'can solve it. His fist went flat at belt level, flashed forward, into the base of the fourth man's spine.

  He contorted, back broken, and fell. Alex pivoted around the falling corpse and sideslammed one meaty paw into the base of the third man's neck. Then swore to himself as the loosely held squad weapon crashed to the ground from the dying man's shoulder.

  The Jann noncom had time to whirl and start his weapon up. finger coming back on the trigger. Alex one-handed the weapon away, the barrel cracking, and his open palm went straight into the man's throat.

  Gettin' a wee sloppy, m'boy. Cartilage crackle and a gurgle, his mind reprimanded as Alex flat-dove forward. Hit the ground in what looked like a curled bellyflop as the point man heard his noncom's deathrattle. came around, and Alex was rolling, his legs thrashing, and the man came crashing down, his weapon flying a meter away.

  The pointman scrabbled for a knife, and Alex, now moving almost slowly, brought his knee up and then crashing down into the man's ribcage. He heard the dull sound of ribs crunching, and the Jann contorted and was dead.

  Alex held. flat. Waiting. Nothing. Up on his hands and knees, and looked back down the path.

  Y'mum'd be proud, lad. Five for five. Ah. well. Roll on demob.

  And Alex went back down the path to wait for the attack to begin.

  * * *

  Nem!i had never seen so small a being run so fast. He and Doc had taken position about one kilometer outside the crater's mouth, deep in the grasslands. Between them and the craters, the Stra!bo cattle moved leisurely toward the corrals.

  Doc was crashing through what was to him a jungle of grasslands, holding a heavy—again for him—bag of powder carefully to one side.

  The ripped corner of the bag was trickling powder onto the ground. Doc looked up, saw that he was parallel with the crater's far wall, turned, and—still at a dead heat—dashed back toward the Stra!bo chief.

  Came to a halt. The small bear and the tall chief looked soberly at each other.

  "A being such as yourself deserves the highest respect," Nem!i said soberly. "To these eyes, you were an elder advisor to your youths. But now to find that you are yourself still a warrior, in spite of your advancing years. And that your body can still function, even though you are as fond as I of feasting— it is an amazing sight."

  Doc ground his sharp little teeth and wished that the Empire hadn't done such a good job of conditioning him out of killing people who thought well of him.

  "I thank you, Nem!i." he managed. "Your pleasure can only be exceeded by mine, when I see you personally lead the charge against the black ship."

  Nem!i shook his head sadly. "I am afraid not. my friend. Men of my age are fit only for the mopping up and to congratulate the young warriors after their success. I will not be able to seek battle this night."

  Doc swore six words Alex had taught him and touched the toggle switch.

  And the powder caught, flashing high into the night. The tinder-dry grasslands roared into life, and, almost instantly, the two-kilometer arc of sa
vannah outside the crater was a crescent-inferno, burning straight into the crater.

  The cattle caught the scent of the flames and lowed nervously. Their amble became a trot. Behind them was wildfire— a prairie firestorm.

  Burning brands flew high into the night, and the fire began overleaping itself, almost burning itself out.

  A blazing clump of bushes landed on one emasculate bellwether's back. He howled in dismay and broke into a gallop.

  The panic spread, and the ground thundered as the herds of the Stra!bo stampeded directly toward the crater's mouth.

  Hugin yowled nervously across the crater gap. Educated and mutated he may have been, but part of his tiger genes remembered what happened when large cats stood in the way of buffalo herds.

  Munin coughed back, comfortingly. Then squatted and urinated. Hugin, too. followed orders.

  The herd was just beginning to turn, unable to channel into the narrow crater pass, when the lead animals caught the scent of urine. What little ideas they had vanished in the acrid smoke and the scent of a hunting animal.

  Hugin and Munin had not only channeled the stampede into the crater but almost doubled the stampede's drive forward.

  Into the crater.

  Directly toward the Jann cruiser.

  The Jann com center was a confusion of gabble: "Negative observation on firestart"… "Alpha patrol, this is base. Alpha patrol, do you receive this station?"… "In the name of Talamein, stop them!"… "All stations… all stations to General Quarters"… and then a long, blood-chilling shriek from one speaker.

  The shriek came from the lone Jann soldier on observation point as the charging cattle broke through the savannah and reached his position. He held the trigger back to full automatic on his projectile weapon, and three animals rolled and were swallowed up as the rest of the herd boiled over the Jann.

  The cattle thundered on. Even though they had heard the rush of the charge, the men in the weapons pits outside the floodlit glare had little time. To a man, they died under the axe-sharp hooves of the herd.

  The Jann cruiser was barely twenty meters ahead of them.

  There was no way or time for them to turn.