Stellar Ranger

by Steve Perry

  Damn!

  Cinch scrabbled up, reached for his pistol, realized it was not on his hip. He’d left it next to his saddle ...

  He stood there barefoot and unarmed in the dark for what seemed like a very long time before he realized the lizard wasn’t coming at him any more.

  When his breathing had slowed and his eyes had cleared some, he went to his pack and found the spare lamp.

  His frantic hip-shooting had worked. The charging ularsinga had been moving too fast to stop, even though it was dead by the time it got to him. The top of its head was gone; one foreleg had been shattered and nearly blown off. He’d been lucky. Using the muzzle flash of a rifle to see in the dark was an iffy deal at best.

  Cinch found the mare and brought her back to camp. He put her bridle on and wrapped it around a tree limb. He packed his gear. Easier to move the campsite than to try and drag the dead lizards away. Besides, there was too much blood soaked into the sands now to stay here.

  He moved carefully in the dark, watching his steps. Well. At least the bodies of these two ought to attract and keep the rest of the local fauna fed long enough for him to get some sleep before the sun came up. He’d have to pay a little more respect to these reptiles in the future. They were tougher than he’d thought. Then again, he was still alive and the two lizards weren’t, so he was tougher than they had thought, too.

  AT MIDMORNING the sound of an approaching aircraft made Cinch pop the camo-tent. He draped it over himself and the mare and held still as the high-flying vessel passed. The tent was mottled in the four most common colors of the local sand, as near as his color-coder could program it. From a few hundred meters, he ought to look like a splotch of terrain, nothing more. The silk was refractive-threaded so it would diffuse his heat signal some. It probably wouldn’t fool an expert with a scope looking specifically for a man, but it might pass a hurried scan. There were a lot of hot rocks under the desert floor.

  The best disguise was for them not to be looking, though. So far, he didn’t think they had any reason to think he was out there.

  When the aircraft was past, Cinch reloaded the tent launcher and spent a few minutes with the still collecting water for the mare. He would be at the edge of Tuluk’s eastern cattle range by dark, according to his map comp.

  The horse drank, less than she would have liked. He didn’t want her overwatered.

  He looked at his radio transceiver; saw the screen dotted with the distant, multiple signals of cattle transponders. They were weak this far off, just a hint of the feedback-locate wave registering. Invisible fencing, it was called. It was a simple technology. A cheap, throwaway solar-powered-battery-backup transponder was stapled to the skull of every animal when it was young. With the computer transmitter on-line, no normal animal in the herd would step past an unseen line. The transponder would give it a painful jolt to turn it back if it tried. Instead of cowboys or dogs or fences, a computer told the cattle where to go and when. An expert operator could do wonders with properly tuned equipment. Once, on Livona, a cattle baron had his herd of more than two hundred thousand animals spell out a WELCOME sign visible from orbit for a visiting rich uncle.

  A dry riverbed loomed. Cinch had spotted it on his map and he made for it, intending to use it for cover for the next few kilometers.

  On the far horizon to the west, a gray line of clouds was barely visible. Given that these were the first such clouds he’d seen since he’d been on this planet, Cinch paused. Since he was planning on using the riverbed, it was best to check. He dialed up the government weather channel, got the local map.

  Well. A front was moving in. Forecasters were predicting scattered thundershowers in the late afternoon and early evening.

  That could be good or bad, A nice rainstorm made excellent cover, played hell with electronic detectors if there were any, gave people a good reason to stay indoors, cut down on visibility. Then again, riding in the rain wasn’t the most pleasant experience, and there was always the danger of flash floods in low-lying areas. A mixed blessing, but maybe moot since it was hot and sunny at the moment and the clouds were a long way off.

  Cinch moved into the dry riverbed.

  * * *

  Tuluk allowed himself to sleep late, then stayed in bed another thirty minutes after that. He seldom indulged himself in this kind of thing, but after last night he was both exhausted and quite pleased with himself. After his second wife died, his interest in women had abated considerably, but now and then he felt the old urges claim him. It was good to know that he could still perform with the stamina of a much younger man, when it was necessary.

  It had certainly been necessary last evening. He was drained absolutely dry.

  Tuluk grinned and arose, padded into the fresher and into the shower. She’d only stayed a few hours but that had been more than sufficient, especially given the stimuIus of the Twist extract he’d given her. One of her orgasms had been so powerful that her arching up with it had literally lifted him clear of her and into the air. Amazing.

  As the hot water beat down upon him, Tuluk found himself singing the Andorean Planetary Anthem. He laughed aloud at himself. They’d been playing that the first tirne he had been with a woman. He could remember both the tune and the woman as if the event had been hours past instead of decades. He wondered whatever had happened to that delightful young fem. He had been a callow boy, just off his first cattle implanting, she was somebody he’d met in a pub. She probably went on to become a prostitute–she’d certainly had the skill for it. She had ridden him like a wild horse, and they hadn’t slept for the entire night. She knew things he had never even heard about, much less imagined doing. Ah, youth.

  He lathered and washed the suds away, praising in song the bravery of the Andorean Legion as it fought to save the world from the villainous Privateer Fleet. When he got to the part with the rockets rising and lancing forth, he knew exactly how they must have felt ...

  * * *

  Cinch rested in the shade of a stunted bush, allowing the mare to wander and graze as the still gurgled and filled the plastic water trough. He watched a srnall brown lizard raise and lower its head rapidly, the red wattle under its neck puffing up and deflating like a small balloon. It was stalking some unseen prey in the shade. ‘The lizard crouched and darted forward. After a moment, Cinch saw the wriggling bug, some kind of beetle, held in the triumphant lizard’s jaws. The little reptile moved off into the deeper recesses of the bush’s shade to enjoy his meal.

  It was quiet, peaceful, the rainclouds having drawn nearer but the heat lightning in the distance not producing any thunder he could hear yet A cool breeze blew along the river’s bed, stirring the dust, bringing with it the scent of rain corning. It might be hours away, but it would arrive eventually.

  Cinch grinned. Sometimes he thought about leaving the rangers, finding a sparsely settled world like this one, settling down. He could run a small ranch, find a good woman, get contracted, maybe even raise kids to chase the chickens around. It was a pleasant fantasy, it held a certain allure. No worries about lawbreakers, no more havine to chase all over the galaxy dropping into gravity wells that were usually sand holes or damp jungles. No more wondering what the strange planet’s morning would bring, no fretting with the knowledge that the last sunset you’d seen might truly be your last one.

  Cinch laughed, and the mare turned to look at him.

  Yeah, someday, maybe. When he was old and slow and a waste of his badge and gun. For now, the danger was the spice in his life, the newness of each planet the seasoning that made it all worth tasting. Somebody had to do it and he was good at it, as good as anybody who wore the insignia. Yes, it was a test of a man or woman’s mettle to be a ranger, but life wasn’t about safe harbors, at least not until you got too old to sail the seas. Someday, if he lived long enough, he’d hang up his gun and badge and walk off into the sunset, but not just yet. Not today.

  Th
e trough was almost full and Cinch went to fill his canteen before the mare began slobbering into it. Someday was off in the future. The here and now was what mattered. Living too far in the future or the past could get you in a lot of trouble.

  * * *

  Lobang leaned against the porch support, chewing on a mouthful of toasted hazelnuts. He didn’t appear to hear Tuluk corning.

  “The ranger is gone,” Tuluk said.

  The bigger man straightened and looked at his boss. “Huh? Gone? Gone where?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t if? Why don’t you go and find out where? I don’t pay you to hold up my front porch.”

  “How could he be gone? Brilly didn’t call, he’s watching the road.”

  “He’s on a horse, Lobang, You don’t have to stay on the road if you ride a horse.”

  The man stared at him. Tuluk answered his unasked question: “If I depended on you and Brilly for my intelligence reports, I’d be in lizard shit up to my hairline, wouldn’t I?”

  Lobang said nothing. Another small blessing.

  “Get the hopper and start a spiral search of my property.”

  “Damn, boss, that’ll take days!”

  “I don’t care if it takes years, do it. There’s a Stellar Ranger riding around out there somewhere. Not knowing where he is and what he’s up to could cause me a great deal of trouble.”

  “What do you want me to do when I find him?”

  “Just find him, first. We’ll worry about what to do after we figure out where he is and what he’s seen.”

  Lobang shambled off and Tuluk stood watching him. This ranger was tricky. He could screw things up. That couldn’t be allowed to happen, no matter what it took to stop it.

  THE MARE had been around cattle; their sounds and scent didn’t seem to bother her. Cinch had spent enough time himself among such beasts so he was also used to them, though the smell of damp dung mixed with the dust kicked up by their hooves didn’t do much for him,

  Some of the cattle had found their way to the thicker vegetation along the riverbed, A few lay in the shade of the trees with roots deep enough to stay green, a few munched on plants in the bed itself. Most of the rest of the herd, probably three or four thousand head, wandered along eating scrub and tufts of brown grass that grew fairly densely nearby. It was an open range, bounded by nothing more than the natural landmarks like the river and the electronic fencing each animal carried.

  By now, Cinch rode along the edge of the river, out of the bed. The thunder that announced the coming rain had grown louder in the last hour, and a fresh trickle of muddy water flowed along the center of the once-dry river. The rain fed the thin stream from upriver, and while a strong man could easily jump the shallow runoff at the moment, that could change in a hurry. Cinch had seen flash floods before, had once watched a sudden wall of frothy brown water surge through an arroyo on Deet’s World and catch a startled springbok before it could get away. It would be embarrassing to drown on a desert world. Not only would he be dead, but the rangers would be shaking their heads and calling him stupid for a long time when they got together and swapped stories.

  Hey, you remember old Carsten?

  Yeah, what a dupe. Drowned in the middle of the fucking desert, can you believe that shit? Jeez, what could he have been thinking? Shit like that makes us all look bad, you know?

  No, if there was a sudden flood, Tuluk might lose a few unwary cattle but the rangers weren’t going to lose one of their own if Cinch could help it.

  As if to punctuate his thoughts, the first drops of rain began to fall, fat and heavy, raising small clouds of dust where they hit and spattered.

  While he hadn’t expected rain when he’d started out, Cinch had been on enough strange planets to carry gear for the unexpected. He dismounted, pulled a hoop-and-film protectant from his bag. The device was simple enough in construction and easy to use. Unfold the hoop–a memory-plastic circle that opened to about two meters in diameter–fill the reservoir tank with the liquid film, shake, and wait five seconds. The film would begin to rise from the rim like smoke. You caught the top edges, twisted them together, pinched off the excess, and you had what looked like a huge version of a child’s soap bubble wand. Hold the hoop over your head, parallel to the ground, and drop it. It would coat your hat or hair and everything under it with the film. Before it had a chance to set, you wiped your face to clear it from your nose and eyes and mouth; thirty seconds later, you were waterproof. The material was one-way osmotic, It would let perspiration out but no water in. The film had a half-life of two hours and would be completely gone in twice that, broken down into harmless and mostly organic components. If the rain had not stopped by then you could reapply it, you could find a spot dry enough.

  The drops were still few and far between as Cinch passed the hoop over himself. He wiped out patches over his eyes and nose and mouth, poked holes for his ears. He thought about trying to protect the mare but decided against it. Unless she was used to it, trying to get her to step through a–for a horse–tight-fitting hoop might be more trouble than it was worth. He did use a patch to cover the mare’s head and ears, though she shied at the touch of the nearly invisible stuff. His gear was mostly protected, but he pulled a few more sections of film and. covered his rifle and saddle. Best he could do.

  Just in time. The skies opened up and the fat raindrops were joined by pellets of hail, some of which were as big as the tip of his little finger.

  Film or no film, this could get painful. He looked for shelter, avoiding the few trees. It would hardly do to get blasted by lightning.

  There was no other cover in sight and he thought briefly about setting up the tent. It was big enough to cover him and the horse easily.

  But the hail stopped in a minute; and while the rain pounded down heavier, blowing almost horizontal in gusts, that was bearable. Water began to pour off his hat brim, a thin stream that fell onto his jacket and ran down his back. There was a spot near his groin on the inside of his left leg he’d missed with the film, and it almost immediately soaked up whatever water found its way there. Never failed but that he managed to miss a place. Damn.

  Lightning struck a tree three or four hundred meters away. Cinch happened to be looking right at it when it hit, and he saw in the strobe several cattle flying from the force of the strike. Cows weren’t real bright, they always seemed to gather under whatever lightning rod happened to be around and suffered the consequences for it. The thunder boomed. The mare tried to dance away, but responded to his firm hand on the reins.

  With the rain sheeting and blowing as it was, he lost most of his landmarks. Cinch pulled the navigational compass and managed to get a fix on his intended direction though the water beading on the small screen. He turned away from, the river and urged the horse forward. The wet spot on his pants grew a little bigger and colder.

  Ah. The glamorous life of a stellar ranger. What could compare to this?

  He grinned and the rain spattered against his teeth.

  * * *

  “No offense, boss, but we’re wasting your fuel out here,” Lobang said. “And my time, too.”

  Tuluk looked at the com screen. Lobang’s image shook, despite the cam’s steadigyro. The window of the hopper behind Lobang ran with long streamers of water, and the clouds behind that were dark and roiling. It was a bad day to be flying and Tuluk was glad it was Lobang and not him out there in the hopper.

  In his office, he could hear the rain pattering down on the sound roof he’d had installed just last year. Thin sheets of tuned metal over his office and bedroom allowed the sound of the too-infrequent rain to drum into the house, a natural rhythm Tuluk found most enjoyable.

  “You don’t have anything better to do,” Tuluk said. “And fuel is cheap. Keep looking.”

  He couldn’t hear it, but he could see Lobang sigh and start to shake his head. “You’re the boss.” />
  “That I am. ‘”

  He reached out and shut the com off. This storm was a big one. If the ranger was out there, he was either holed up somewhere or getting wetter than a barrel of fish. Not likely he’d be doing much damage. Chances of Lobang spotting him were slim, even with sensory gear. Nothing like a little lightning and rain to fuck up IR or UV spotting scopes, not to mention what it did to doppler.

  The rain tapped at the special sounding board, lulling him. Perhaps he’d been worried unnecessarily. For all he knew, the ranger could be washed away by now, a glitch in history whose drowned body would be picked clean by the ularsinga and cow buzzards. And when the rangers sent somebody to find him? Too bad, he would say, he seemed like such a nice fellow. And if he survived, well, there was still the offer of a job. That could be made more lucrative, certain bonuses could be mentioned. Every man had his price and certainly he could afford one ranger.

  The drumming sped up, slowed, then the plate made a sound as if a handful of gravel had been tossed at it. More hail, likely, A little of that wouldn’t, hurt the blueweed, it was a sturdy plant. A few stalks would be blown over if the winds gusted high enough, mostly around the edges of the fields. This rain was just what he needed; it would clear the dusty air, give the land a fresh and clean look.

  Tuluk reached for his drink, sipped the smoky scotch. He found it hard to worry when it rained like this, always had. Safe, warm, dry in his house, it was difficult to feel too threatened by one man. True, it didn’t hurt to be cautious, but then again there was no point in being a little old fussbudget, either.

  He listened to the rain’s percussive song.

  * * *