“Speaking of that contact,” Jemunu-jah added as he turned his attention back to the falling rain and the wild, wet Viisiiviisii in which they now found themselves stranded, “I wonder if anyone survive here for us to rescue?”
His answer came in the form of a solid blow to the lower portion of his back, just above the tail. As he fell forward and reached out to grab something to keep himself from plunging through to the water below, he caught a glimpse of the solid, fast-moving shape that had struck from above. Masurathoo's lack of a scream was instructive—as was Jemunu-jah's first sight of the creature that had surprised him.
Landing lithely on both feet, the human kept the majority of his attention focused on the more dangerous Sakuntala while not neglecting to monitor the movements of the startled Deyzara. As Jemunu-jah rolled over, back aching, he found himself gazing down the barrel of a surprisingly large handgun. Occasionally the muzzle would shift to cover the motionless Masurathoo. Most of the time, however, it was aimed in the Sakuntala's direction. The human's stance was tense, Jemunu-jah noted, and beneath the hood of the rain cape he wore his small but efficient eyes were in constant motion. The big, muscular male was clearly very unhappy with something.
Well, Jemunu-jah mused, in that he had company.
“Who are you,” the human asked sharply, “and what do you want with me?” For good measure, he repeated the query in both S'aku and Deyzar.
With Masurathoo still overtaken by the rush of events, it was his companion who replied. “I am Jemunu-jah. This my associate in current mission, Masurathoo.”
The human's eyes narrowed and his weapon remained leveled. “What would prompt a damn dumb native and a bug-eyed Dez to be traveling together in this godforsaken corner of the Viisiiviisii?”
“We came rescue you.” Jemunu-jah bristled at the name-calling. Off to his right, he saw that Masurathoo was similarly offended.
The human made a nonverbal grunting noise, deep and primordial. “Did you, now? Fine job you've made of it.” The muzzle of the gun gestured meaningfully toward the place where the newcomers' skimmer had sunk.
Wiping rain from his eyes, Masurathoo was emboldened to speak up. “I am compelled to point out that the instant we detected your location our craft's controls locked up. Despite my most energetic efforts, I was unable to free them. The dire consequences of this you have obviously observed for yourself.” The Deyzara hesitated a moment, his speaking trunk bobbing nervously. “May I say, sir, that while our efforts thus far may admittedly be somewhat lacking in efficiency, I find your attitude more than a little insupportable.”
Jemunu-jah tensed in anticipation of a reaction from the human. But humans, he knew, did not always react as expected. They were far more individualistic and less predictable than, say, a Sakuntala.
Hasa peered sharply at the Deyzara. “You say your controls locked when you detected me?” Reaching with his free hand through a slit in the rain cape and into an opening in his pants, he brought out the pocket beacon and began rolling it back and forth between his fingers. “I crashed here because my own controls locked up. Also, my skimmer's main emergency beacon failed. Part of it reactivated only when you appeared.”
“Integrated instrumentation such as a vessel's emergency beacon is designed to be inviolable and fail-safe,” Masurathoo pointed out.
“Tell me something I don't know, squid-face.” Both of the new arrivals wondered what a squid was. To Masurathoo's way of thinking, it did not sound complimentary. But then, it was rapidly becoming clear that this human was as disagreeable a personality as had been rumored.
“First I crash out here on the edge of nowhere. Then you two come prancing along to find me, and as soon as you locate me, you crash.” As he glanced skyward, blinking up at the rain, he holstered his weapon. Jemunu-jah thought about making a leap for it, decided against it. If necessary, there would be better opportunities later. He had to remind himself that he was here to rescue this contrary person, not fight him.
“It occurs to me,” the human continued, “that somebody doesn't want me found and brought back.”
“I understand.” Finally able to relax now that the imposing handgun had been holstered, Masurathoo settled himself under a protective leaf. “Can you think of anyone who might wish such a misfortune to befall you?”
Hasa laughed without hesitation. It was a bold laugh, ringing out through the rain and the flooded forest. Jemunu-jah winced. The Viisiiviisii was not a good place to call attention to oneself.
“On how many worlds? Here on this dismal dump I could name maybe a hundred.” His expression turned serious again. “I just can't think of anyone who'd go to these lengths. Those who come immediately to mind might like to stick a gun in my face or an explosive purgative up my ass—but they wouldn't get this elaborate. No need to.” He squinted back out into the damp and the gloom. “There's more behind this, I'm beginning to think, than a desire to see Shadrach Hasselemoga become food for fungus.”
“Then we must look for a motive.” To emphasize the point, Masurathoo touched the end of his speaking trunk to the tip of his eating trunk. Jemunu-jah shuddered slightly. The sight was repellently suggestive of two samul worms mating. “Besides, um, personal adversaries, who else might have reason to benefit from your demise occurring in so complex a fashion?”
Hasa contemplated his new companions in isolation. Jemunu-jah didn't like the way the human was looking at him. But then, he found that he did not like much of anything about this person. Had he known how thoroughly unlikable the human really was, he would have refused the assignment in spite of the Hata's order.
A bit too late for that now.
“I've been hearing that the natives are restless,” the human was muttering. “Or rather, more restless than usual for you Sakis. Couple of sources told me they thought something big was up. They just didn't know what.” He stared relentlessly at Jemunu-jah. The gaze was of an intensity sufficient to unsettle most humans. It did not bother a Sakuntala, who could stare down an eagle.
“There always activity among my people,” he responded truthfully—and uninformatively. “It possible some might try to take advantage of such a situation as this by blaming it on others.” He looked to his companion for confirmation.
Masurathoo was appropriately outraged. “My people would never do such a thing! I am insulted. Insulted!”
“But not absolutely, one hundred percent sure that it couldn't be the case?” Hasa commented thoughtfully.
Both trunks wilted, droplets running down their naked lengths. “No. How could I possibly say that? This whole situation in which we find ourselves is so unthinkable, so bizarre, that I fear nothing can be ruled out.” Moon eyes regarded the tall Sakuntala. “Which means that it is also entirely possible, sirs, that elements among the Sakuntala have instigated our present difficulties with an eye toward blaming them upon my people.”
“Why would they do that?” Hasa pulled the leading edge of his rain cape lower on his forehead.
“As one more rationale for trying to drive us off this world, which has been a major desire of certain radical elements among the Sakuntala ever since my ancestors were first brought here. Any excuse, however absurd, to wreak violence against the Deyzara is keenly welcomed by such hostile groups.”
Jemunu-jah accepted the accusation quietly. He had to, because he knew it to be true.
The tension between the two of them seemed to amuse the human. “You folks really don't like each other much, do you? Well, if it means anything, I don't like you, either. I don't like ignorant, big-eared, thieving primitives. I don't like mincing, snake-faced, money-grubbing immigrants. And I don't like this stinking, soaking, moldering muddle of a planet.”
“My goodness gracious. Is there anything that you do like, Mr. Hasselemoga?” Masurathoo gave voice to the same response Jemunu-jah had been considering, only in far more polite terms than the Sakuntala would have managed.
The human smiled at the Deyzara. “Yes, there is. I like mo
ney. I like the compliments I get when I discover and bring back something useful. I like my privacy. I like certain other things you farcical resident freaks wouldn't understand. Understand that about me, respect that about me, and maybe we'll get out of this together.”
Understand I do, Jemunu-jah thought darkly. Respect, however, was not a term that he found he could apply to the human.
“Just to be fair,” Hasa added, “there are certain brainless bundles of morons within the Commonwealth who think humans and thranx should stay off any world not already classified Class Two or above. While I'm not personally acquainted with representatives of any such organizations on this dirt ball, that doesn't mean they aren't here. They could've been the ones responsible for putting me down, and for working to prevent any rescue.” He smiled broadly. It was an easily recognizable expression Jemunu-jah had come to associate with human amusement. In the case of this particular individual, however, it clearly had other associations and meanings.
“Being around my own kind most of the time, I've no illusions about what they're capable of. So there's enough potential blame to go around. Don't worry. When we get back I'll find out who's responsible, and deal with them in my own way.” Implicitly suggesting that the Deyzara would be useless in such an undertaking, Hasa focused his attention on Jemunu-jah. “You can help if you like.”
“You seem very sure we will get back, sir.” Masurathoo found that more and more of his attention was being drawn away from the ongoing conversation and toward their saturated, inhospitable surroundings.
“I'm always sure I'm going to get back. I've been in bad situations before, and I'm still here.”
“You not spent time on foot in Viisiiviisii,” Jemunu-jah countered. The human just glared at him but said nothing.
“Well, I daresay that our present obligation is to make ourselves as safe and comfortable as possible while we await our own rescue.” Masurathoo began searching for a drier place among the leaves and branches.
“What rescue?” Hasa snorted. “Want to bet that whatever took over your skimmer also disabled its emergency equipment, just as it did mine?” Pulling it from his service belt, he waved the compact short-range beacon he had used in his futile attempt to signal the incoming skimmer. “Right now this is all we've got that we know works. I wouldn't want to bet that Commonwealth Administration would be in any hurry to send out a second craft to look for you. Not for a while. They'll assume you're taking your own good time looking for me.” Rising and turning, he peered off into the flooded forest. “Sitting around waiting to be picked up didn't do me much good, did it? I'm not going to hang around here waiting for another skimmer that may or may not be on its way.”
“I agree.” Jemunu-jah moved to stand closer to the human. “So much noisemaking will have attract many meat eaters. They all around this place, waiting to sample taste of food that talks.”
Masurathoo rose so fast that he bumped his head on an overhanging branch. “What meat eaters, where?” He gazed worriedly out into the rain. “I do not see anything.”
“They there. They always there. Strange noises draw them close, make them curious. Better to leave this place and let them explore Mr. Hasselemoga's skimmer.” Raising a long fur-covered arm, Jemunu-jah pointed eastward. “Are many villages scattered throughout deep Viisiiviisii. If we can find one, we have food and safety. Better than wait here for rescue craft that may not come.”
“And a village will have contact with another village, which might have contact with another, that in turn has contact with an outpost of civilization.” Hasa was in full agreement with the Sakuntala. Jemunu-jah refrained from pointing out that every Sakuntala village was an outpost of civilization. This was neither the time nor the place to launch into an extended argument with the human. That, and possibly more forceful objection, could come later. Right now he needed the human, if only to have something edible to shove between himself and a marauding casokul.
An agitated Masurathoo eyed both his companions askance. “You will please excuse me if I take leave to disagree with the both of you. Our best chance for surviving this regrettable situation is to remain here, near our downed craft that others are sure to come looking for.”
“Looking and finding are two different things.” The human was already focusing his efforts northward, in the general direction of distant Taulau. How many Sakuntala villages might lie between that teeming outpost of Commonwealth civilization and their present location no one knew. Nor did Jemunu-jah's presence guarantee them a cordial reception even if they managed to reach one. But anything was better than sitting still doing nothing. Also, Hasa agreed with the native: all the commotion was bound to have drawn the attention of local predators. If either skimmer had remained intact and above water, he might have decided differently. On the other hand, without such protection from the roving hazards of the flooded forest, he felt that the sooner they vacated the area, the better.
Besides, if you stayed in one place in the Viisiiviisii for any length of time, things would start to take root on you.
“Something else,” he added. “Whoever did this, for whatever reason, might not be completely confident that just marooning me out here is enough to do the job. After a while, they might decide to come and check on the results of their handiwork personally.” He patted his side arm. “Since this is about all I've got in the way of defensive ordnance, I'd rather not be around in case they show up.” His attention turned back to Jemunu-jah.
“All right, big-ears—this is your country. Pick a direction. I usually lead, but when someone else knows the territory better than me, I'm not ashamed to follow.”
“It is not that simple. We cannot just go straight northward.” Turning, Jemunu-jah indicated a complex of interlocked trees and lianas. “Except for places where is no other choice, we must keep above the water.” His eyes focused on the human. “Rain is life; flooded forest is death.”
“Pithily put.” Hasa gestured broadly. “Lead on, Junko-juke.”
“Jemunu-jah,” the Sakuntala corrected him, biting back the words he really wanted to use. Selecting a branch just above and in front of him, he reached up and pulled himself to a higher level. They had to get farther away from the surface of the water.
“You are both, you should please excuse my expression, making a big mistake.” Masurathoo showed no sign of moving from beneath his leaf. “We must remain with our downed craft if we are to have any hope of being found.” Using both hands and both trunks, he made a four-limbed gesture into the depths of the rain-washed Viisiiviisii. “Go in there and we will be lost forever. All too many times this place has swallowed the most confident and experienced of individuals.”
“I'm already feeling swallowed.” Displaying both strength and agility, Hasa had followed Jemunu-jah up onto the higher branch. “No one's forcing you to come, mashed potato. Stay or follow; it makes no difference to me.” Lowering his voice meaningfully, he glanced over at Jemunu-jah. “If he stays behind, maybe he'll draw the carnivores.”
The Sakuntala did not respond. It would have been unseemly and would have cost him mula. Like him or not, Masurathoo was his associate in this joint venture. Still, the human's words contained a certain merit . . .
Jemunu-jah started walking, bracing himself with his long arms and balancing gracefully on the branch. Following behind, the human matched him stride for stride. Masurathoo remained where he was, stubborn and utterly convinced.
Or rather, he did so until his companions had advanced out of sight. Only later did the Deyzara catch up to them, panting hard, his breathing trunk swollen and reddened with the effort, his splendid body wrappings already shredded and torn.
They were forced to stop early for the night so that he could recuperate. Left to his own devices, Hasa would have pressed on. But he was smart enough to realize that he stood a much better chance of getting somewhere if he stayed with the Sakuntala, and Jemunu-jah would not leave Masurathoo behind. It was, he explained, a question of mula and of
doing what was right.
Besides, it was abundantly clear to Jemunu-jah by now that the Deyzara would be much easier to shove in front of an oncoming predator than would the human . . .
6
No one spared more than a casual glance at Aniolo-jat and Yeruna-hua as they made their way toward the nakobo tree. It stood off by itself, surrounded by water and connected to the rest of Hasawa Village by a single narrow footbridge. The walkway wasn't even made of strilk but was woven in the old way, from braided vines. Pale red fungi and lavender-hued mold covered large sections of it, showing that it was little used. Using his tongue, Aniolo-jat snapped off a piece of huim and chewed it as he and his companion made their way across the swinging viaduct. Below, a surface-feeding takuwolu kept spitting acid in their direction. But the walkway was too high. After several tries, the finned, snakelike predator gave up and swam off in search of more accessible prey.
Reaching the isolated tree, Yeruna-hua scanned their immediate surroundings. Only a light drizzle was falling, making it possible for them to be seen from the village. No one was looking in their direction. Hasawa was a small community, out-of-the-way and unimportant. It was also, significantly, a “pure” village. Not even the usual Deyzara food shop marred its Sakuntala nature.
As Yeruna-hua kept watch and used his own body to shield his companion from the sight of others, Aniolo-jat reached out and pushed on several light brown shelf fungi. Unusually, they did not break off under the weight of his fingers. Even more unusually, they stayed down instead of springing back up when he pushed on them. In response, a rust-stained section of the tree slid aside, admitting the pair not to a woody interior but to one lined with pale composite paneling. Entering, they shut the barrier behind them.
No one in a place like Hasawa would expect someone to step inside a tree. Had anyone been able to follow the two Yuiquerus who did so, he would have been even more surprised to see them descend a series of spiral steps and finally pause before another doorway. This one was flanked by a pair of warriors armed not with spears and hunting bows but with neuronic rifles. One versed in such matters would have noted immediately that they were of familiar Commonwealth manufacture.
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