Below, Bakuub could smell the terror and urine of the prey mammal as it cowered. The Hard Meat slunk forward, lizard-insect evil in its every smooth movement. The acid smell rose from below, amid the offal and straw scents. Soon it would mix with the harsh copper smell of mammalian blood.
Bakuub had personally seen that the others of the flotilla were alerted to the potential problem. The Leaders of the other packs had all shown concern and stated that they would join them in their efforts if needed. However, they were presently in the midst of their own particular Hunts, be they sport or blooding rites, and had to see to that.
Yes, Bakuub thought. But this was much more of a problem than anyone else realized. When Ki'vik'non had been killed by a weapon-holding kainde amedha, that had been bad enough. The implications were enormous. That such a creature existed meant a new and dangerous enemy for the People. Challenges were challenges, and to be cherished, however, just as the arrival of the Soft Meat amid the stars was more than a mere challenge, so was the advent of this super Hard Meat.
It was a threat.
Suddenly a wave of hatred passed through Bakuub.
For the Soft Meat, certainly.
But also for the Hard Meat.
Hatred was not unusual in a yautja, but generally reserved for another of their species. Hatred for the Hunted usually meant fear.
Hatred flowed through Bakuub's veins.
The Hard Meat's secondary jaws were extending.
Its claws and extensors held the bisor firmly. The progress of the creature's dinner was painstaking and deadly.
Bakuub reached forward, hit a button. The entry lid of the cage slipped back. Even as it did, Bakuub reached behind his back, pulled out his spear, aimed.
With one swift motion of his trained arm, Bakuub sent the javelin downward with blinding speed. The razor tip met with the back of the kainde amedhas head, driving down with such force that the upper carapace was pierced as well.
Bakuub had judged well. It was for good reason that he had taken pains to study the anatomy of the Hard Meat. He had judged his blow not only so that the nexus of nerves in the thing's helmet-like head would be destroyed, but also so that there would be a minimum of its acid blood spilled.
The Hard Meat let go its prey. Shrieking, it reached back for the spear, but it was far too late for that. The angle had been perfect, an angle that was never presented in normal combat, and the blow had been swift and sure.
The creature shuddered and staggered.
Its limbs twisted and shivered like dying snakes.
With a final horrible scream the kainde amedha flopped to the floor of the holding pen, writhing out the last of its life in hisses.
Stillness descended upon the holding pen. Bakuub reached out and thumbed another button.
The outer door opened and a small ramp extended. A breath of outside sailed in, rich with green life and sunshine.
"Go now," said Bakuub to the bisor. "Live. And the life you have now will be the purer and more cherished for your terror here."
The bisor paused for only a moment. Then it inched around the side, eyeing the fallen Hard Meat as though it expected the creature to rise at any moment, and ran down the ramp to the outside.
Bakuub closed the door. Just as well. The Hard Meat would pose a distraction, anyway, to the true task at hand. He would tell Lar'nixva that the thing had attempted escape. And if the fool challenged him-well, then, the fool would die that much sooner, and all to the good.
* * *
Chapter 14
Tell me again why we had to leave the omniterrain bus," said Attila, looking around warily, his sensors doubtless high.
"This is a maneuver, chum," said Dick Daniels, his gun tilted slightly toward the ground, but obviously ready. "We're just lookin' over territory. I don't think we're going to run into anything much."
"This is the place where the sporting safari ran into the Hunters," said Machiko. "We're just having a look, checking out the lie of the land. And operating as a unit for the first time. Which reminds me." She clicked on her wrist radio. "Unit? How are we doing?"
The answers ticked off one by one from the twenty-member team. They'd spread out in a wing formation, covering this open area of ground. Machiko could see them all, but she figured that as long as you had technology, you should use it. Besides, she wanted to make sure the stuff still worked.
The sun had just lifted off the horizon, and mists were rising up like moody chromatic wraiths from vines and the yanga trees. The air smelled ripe and yeasty with a damp chill soon to be burned off by the sun, but enough to give early risers a shiver or two. Machiko still had the taste of good coffee in her mouth. She savored it, as did the rest of the men. As Daniels had said, "At least the food and the drink are good on this gig."
Food, in fact, seemed to be on everyone's mind.
"So what's for lunch?" said Lou MacCraken, still yammering away as usual.
"Shit on a shingle," snarled Truck Tankerslee, a grotty short toad of a man with a foul mouth, a foul mind, but the record for the most bugs obliterated of the lot of them.
"Yeah," said Nick Gillespie. "Question is, is it good shit?"
"I don't know," said Machiko, trying to keep in the jocular mood of the bunch. "You want me to call back to the bus and check?"
"Good idea," said Marino, squinting into the dark below the mists. "I got a feeling that looking forward to something's a good idea on this particular mission."
Machiko shrugged and looked over to Sanchez, on her right side. "What do you think, Ned?"
He smiled at her. "Better to think about beans 'n' franks than lurking Death. I say go for it."
"Yeah," said Daniels. "We got guys back on the bus. Might as well have 'em do something other than sit around with their thumbs up their butts."
"Well, I should hope they're not preparing the food," sniffed Attila.
"Right. And I should hope that it's something better than beans or creamed chipped beef," grumbled Daniels.
"Let's check" She tapped out the numbers, spoke into the radio node sticking in front of her face.
"Yo. Michaels?"
A bit of static in her ear. Then: "Got you."
"How's it look there on the bus?"
"Still all bozos here." Pause. "'Bout the same as before. You guys just left minutes ago."
"Well, you know the saying. An army travels on its stomach. So we were just wondering here-what's for lunch?"
Lane Michaels laughed. "You mean that big ice chest they sent with us? I been wondering about that myself. Maybe I better get that lawyer in to work on it."
Machiko laughed. "You do that. Get him to do something other than cower in the back."
Abner Brookings was turning out to be something less than the Great White Hunter he fancied himself. He hadn't wanted to come along on this mission, but Evanston had ordered him to, so he could pinpoint for the group the exact location. Brookings at least had the gift of a quick and smooth tongue, and he'd persuaded Machiko to allow him to hang back as consultant rather than directly participate in the maneuvers. His "inexperience," he claimed, might hamper the operation. But, please, don't tell old man Evanston. In return he promised to "have another look" at Machiko's contract and "provide her with free legal help." The ashen pallor of his face informed her that this was no act. Although he had a gun, it was clear that his enthusiasm for weapons had waned somewhat.
Just as well, really. Amateurs and guns generally didn't mix.
"I am not cowering at all," declared Brookings's voice abruptly. "I am available for consultation. And I am performing valuable help in guarding your means of transportation back."
There wasn't a trace of irony in the man's voice, which ingratiated him to her not a wit. "That's very kind of you. We do appreciate that effort .... Now, could you both check that storage box?"
There was a moment of silence, followed by thumping and opening sounds.
Michaels came back on-line. "Hmmm. Lots of cheese. Fruit. A
nice ham. Crusty bread. Looks mighty tasty. I think I'll make myself a sandwich right now"
"I think you'd better consult with Mr. Lawyer there on the legal implications before you do that," said Machiko, laughing. "But I think you'll have a few disgruntled comrades as well."
"Oh. Yeah. Guess that wouldn't go down too well." Dumb voice, with fake realization.
"Right. Just stay on call, both of you. We're getting into the area where you said you were attacked, Brookings."
"Good. Keep your line open. I'll do what I can from here."
Just because she was actually glad he hadn't come along didn't mean she couldn't rib him about the subject. Besides, the other guys were in on the joke. It kept things light in the face of some pretty heavy-duty danger.
In fact, they were entering some heavier growth, just as Brookings had described. Without focusing Machiko could almost imagine herself on some African weld, approaching forest. However, there were no earthly leaves that looked quite like the ones that dangled in the breeze, glistening with jewel like dew.
"Anything, Til?"
"Nope. No signs of bodies."
She didn't really expect any. When working covertly like this, the yautja tended to take their grisly trophies and dispose of the bodies cleanly. Still, you never knew, and she actually approved of Evanston's suggestion. She wasn't thrilled with the idea of coming up against a pack of the Hunters so soon, but she honestly didn't expect any such contact.
Too, it was good to work with these people. On the way out they had been an unruly lot, joking and cursing and laughing. Now, though, they were falling into line like a practiced crack unit. Zorski had chosen well.
"Just a minute," said Attila. "I'm picking up something . . . ."
Machiko's stomach lurched a moment, that familiar surge of fear. However, the adrenaline kick that followed evened her out, even thrilled her. This was what she'd been seeking-this moment of on-edge aliveness.
"Anything specific?"
"Odd. It's about sixty yards over there, among the bush. Residual traces of burning . . . carbon ash . . . acid ... biologic residue."
"We'd better go check it out then, eh?"
"Yeah. That would be a good idea," said Daniels. "Ned and I will take point, if you like."
"No, just back us up. Attila knows how to use the sensor unit." The android had an instrument sensor pack to account for his talents, but in truth he was relying mostly upon his internal nodes.
"Sure. Go ahead. Ned, you'd better go with them, though."
"Right." The dark eyes remained expressionless, absolutely free of fear or nervousness. There was, however, a flicker of something in them now, a crinkle of a smile, as though Sanchez was grateful to help out.
Machiko felt an unfamiliar warmth in her heart at the sign. The guy liked her, wanted to watch out for her. An instinctual man-woman thing. Not that she needed it; she'd watched her own ass for a long time, but it warmed her cockles. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't mind warming his.
There might be some other perks to this job.
"All right," she said. "Let's do it."
The three of them, weapons at the ready, moved ahead into the area that Attila had indicated. They walked through weeds and brush, and the sweet smell of bright flowers. The mist was gone now, and the sun was fully launched, chasing away most of the shadows. They passed through a stand of trees into another clearing, cautiously. Immediately Machiko's nostrils flared; a harsh acrid smell assaulted them.
"Damn. No wonder your sensors beeped. What is that?"
Burned shell?
Burned insulation?
Burned blood?
All of them.
"Over there," said Attila.
"Right. I can see it," said Sanchez.
Machiko could see it too, poking above a clump of grass. Some kind of greasy, blackened pile.
"Something dead," she said.
"Yeah, but no flies," said Sanchez.
"Correct. Presumably this planet has other decompositional agents."
"I don't know. Even a bacterium couldn't grow in that," said Sanchez.
Machiko stepped up to it. At first it looked like the remains of some kind of garbage-heap fire, but then she started to discern identifying details.
"Looks like the burned remains of a bug. That would explain the acrid odor. Burned acid."
Machiko found a stick and poked around.
"I detect metal and plastic and glass as well-" said Attila.
Machiko poked some more. Overturned fused glass and blackened circuitry.
"Analysis?"
"Too far gone to tell," said Attila.
"Looks like somebody threw some equipment on top of a bug body, doused it with incendiary chemicals, and then torched it," said Sanchez. "But why?"
"Some sort of cover-up?"
"What-by the alien Hunters? To hide their presence?" said Attila.
"That must be it."
"On top of a bug and equipment?"
"I don't know. Maybe they were hiding the equipment too. Maybe it was just convenient. Maybe we should take back a specimen-"
A yelp over the radio, echoed by a real-life vocalization beyond the tree.
Then:
"Noguchi. You'd better get back here." Daniels's voice.
"Right. Come on, guys."
It could be the Predators. She steeled herself. She wasn't particularly ready for them today.
But, then, was anyone ever ready for them?
They ran back. She expected to hear the sounds of battle at any second, the sizzle of blasters through the air, the booms of explosions.
Instead she saw merely that the party had moved closer together, and weapons aimed toward a clump of bush.
She ran up to Daniels.
"What's going on?"
"Something's in there."
"Could be some kind of animal."
The bushes shook. Something stood up, staggered out.
Weapons raised.
"No. Hold your fire."
The figure stumbled into a clearing. Blood. Torn clothing.
A woman.
She gripped a gun but made no effort to use it. She just staggered forward.
"Stay back," said Machiko.
The woman stopped. Fell to her knees.
"Thank God," she said. "Thank God you've come for me."
"It's one of the damned guests," said Daniels. "She's survived somehow."
"How come you didn't go back?"
The woman shook her head dizzily. "Don't .. . know . . . unconscious . . ."
"Well, don't just sit around gawking," said Machiko. "Give the lady some water. She's probably dehydrated."
Water was administered, and then a name was obtained.
"Petra Piezki," said Machiko over the radio. "Ring any bells, Brookings?"
"I don't believe it .... I thought she was dead. There was this"
"Whatever. We're bringing her in. She needs medical attention. You want to break out the first-aid kit?"
"Of course."
Piezki drank some water. With the help of a man to either side of her, she was able to walk.
"Piezki. What did you see out there?" Machiko asked her.
"Monsters. Killers." Then she had slumped, eyes dimming, as though to escape.
"Let's get her some help. Atilla then we'll think about looking around some more."
Actually, Machiko had pretty much found what she wanted to find. She'd tested the mettle of her people and was satisfied that she had a crack troop.
Anything else would be pushing things too far.
They'd probably stretched their luck far enough, and when you dealt with the Predators, luck was a commodity you didn't play games with.
* * *
Chapter 15
You bastard: You left me!"
"Piezki! I thought you were dead."
"That's a lie! You left me out there to die!"
Before Machiko could do anything to prevent it, the seemingly weak Piezki lurche
d from her slumped position at the campsite and lunged across toward Abner Brookings. Her thick hands clamped around Brookings's neck, and she began to throttle the lawyer, shaking him violently.
"You left me! You left me!"
Brookings's eyes bugged. The surprise of the attack had caught him off guard, but he was not a defenseless or weak man. With one great heave he pulled Petra Piezki off her feet and then slammed her into the metal side of the ground crawler.
Piezki's hands lost their grip. Her eyes rolled up.
She slid down the side of the bus, unconscious.
"Oh, great," said Machiko. "She's going to tell us all about what she saw now"
Brookings loosened his collar. He was gasping. "You saw it. Self-defense. She was trying to kill me!"
"Apparently with good reason, if you left her to die!"
"I swear, we were both running .... I thought she was a goner. If I thought I could have helped, I would have."
"She's all right," reported Sanchez, looking up from the unconscious body.
"Save the real story for later," said Machiko. "Let's get her back to Evanston. We've got a report to make."
Machiko sat down beside Sanchez. Their vehicle was bumping its way back home, and the man's dark eyes were directed toward the passing landscape.
"Nice planet," said Machiko.
"I've seen more beautiful, I've seen more dangerous, I've seen not-nice planets I liked better," he said, not looking at her.
"I get the feeling you've been on your share."
He shrugged. "After you fight the bugs awhile, you get sort of empty inside. You need to go away for a while, or you just get a bad case of interior rot."
"So why are you back in the bug-battle saddle?"
He looked at her. "Money."
"A guy like you could earn money other ways."
"I did. Not enough. Let's just say this was an offer I could have refused but would have been an idiot to."
Aliens vs Predator 2 - Hunter's Planet Page 13
