Captain Amalfi seemed in deep thought as he holstered his Punch Gun. I managed to read him in a general way. He was concerned about security for the team, about accomplishing the mission. After less than ten hours on the planet, we had already lost two of our five robots to hostile attacks, and we still had days to go. When the robots were gone, we came next.
“You are wondering now what could have dispatched the first robot at the river so quickly,” I said.
“Look at those things,” he replied. “They’re enormous, yet the bot managed to kill one of them. What sort of … of thing must it have been to destroy a bot so easily?”
C·H·A·P·T·E·R
SIXTEEN
DAY FOUR
I was growing more sensitive to the Presence — or it was getting even stronger. It wasn’t with us all the time, or even most of the time, but I always knew when it arrived and when it left again. The others spoke occasionally in hushed tones about the ominous laughter on the pod. In some subliminal way, they seemed aware of something, but at the same time quite unaware of its being the motivating factor behind the sporadic bouts of dissension and quarrelsomeness within the team. Maid attributed the volatile mood swings to the planet’s malevolent atmosphere, the ubiquity of threat from the local giant fauna population, and the anticipation of possible action at the Blob site.
Kadar thinks it’s something else. What?
I could now read Maid’s thoughts more often than not when they were fully formed and not just wool gatherers or random cogitation. Sometimes I even caught fleeting reverie from the others, especially from Ferret and Gorilla who seemed more open and straightforward than the others. I tried sending mind messages to Maid, but they only seemed to make her uncomfortable without getting through.
“You’re reading my thoughts again,” she accused, mildly rebuking me.
“What naughty thoughts they are,” I teased.
She blushed. “I don’t believe anybody can really do it. Can we conduct a test?”
It was meal break. Atlas had been sent to check the perimeter. I set my food aside.
“I think you also have the Talent,” I said. “You must learn to develop and use it.”
“Okay,” she challenged. “I’m thinking of something you shouldn’t know. Tell me what it is.”
After a moment, I purred, my ears twitching with the pleasure of her company. “It’s on the right cheek of your behind. A tiny tattooed flower.”
She blushed again. “Kadar!”
“Am I right?”
“It’s called a rose. You must have peeked when I was down to my panties for the time couch.”
“You still had your panties covering it.”
“You’re naughty, Kadar.”
She was a wonderful and lovely creature with her wide blue eyes and that thick crop of thatched black hair. She was built beautifully too. I liked to watch her when she shed the baggy cammie uniform in camp and wore only a skin-tight body suit while she administered to her hygiene. It wasn’t even the Zentadon breeding season, but I nonetheless felt a powerful urge to breed. After all, I was half Human. I was beginning to think I knew which half, too.
“Humans don’t call it ‘breeding,’” Maid corrected when I tried to explain Zentadon customs in mating. “We call it ‘romance.’”
I tasted the word. “Romance. I do like it, Pia. And you Humans cohabit as well? I have seen pictures in which your pet dogs come to resemble their masters after a period of cohabitation.”
She laughed in that delightful open manner that simply tore at my heartstrings, as the Humans put it.
“It’s true that married people come to resemble each other after a period of … cohabitation,” she said.
“Married? I know. It is an old, old Earth expression.”
“Actually,” she replied with a touch of sadness, “it’s an old, old Earth custom in which a man and woman take an oath to ’love, cherish and honor beyond all others … till death us do part.”
“I see. An exclusive breeding contract. Do you have one, Pia?”
Her eyes softened. “No one has called me Pia in so long.”
“Then I shall call you Pia always.”
She glanced up. Atlas was returning from his perimeter duties and walking across camp toward us. Rain began to fall again.
“It’s better if you call me Maid, like everyone else,” she said brusquely as Atlas approached.
“The Captain needs you for commo, Gun Maid,” he said. “He’s trying to run an encrypt through the Stealth to the Tsutsumi.”
“I’ve told him it’s useless to try in this atmosphere.”
A bolt of lightning struck nearby, crashing and splintering a tree, as though to stress the point.
Atlas shuddered. “Damn this lightning.”
He waited until Maid was out of earshot. He glared at me. “Stay away from her,” he warned in a steely tone. “I see the way you look at her.”
“Do you have an arrangement?” I asked.
“You’re stepping on thin ice, elf.”
“An old, old Earth expression?”
“You’re about to fall through it.”
He stalked off.
It rained some more. It rained almost constantly as we slogged relentlessly toward the mountain of the Blobs. Lightning kept the atmosphere electrified and our nerves frayed. Everyone seemed to cocoon in on himself during those tense periods when the Presence walked among us. Once or twice, a lesser predator slipped past the outrider bots, which were spread thin by the decimation of their numbers, and had to be destroyed. The planet’s monsters could see us when we deactivated our chameleons.
One of the hellgrammites was almost upon Atlas, its mandibles slashing and its giant armored legs threatening to pin him for the kill. Taa surged through my veins. I snatched the Viking from the very jaws of death, as Ferret later dramatized it, and deposited him safely to one side before he realized what was happening. Sergeant Shiva dispatched the beast at close range with his Punch.
The team stared at me, disbelievingly.
“I … I couldn’t even see you move,” Ferret stammered, awed. “What kind of enhancement is that? I have got to have it!”
“It’s no enhancement,” Maid corrected him. “It’s taa, isn’t it, Kadar?”
She shivered. Then she smiled, came toward me, and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Atlas scowled at her. “This changes nothing,” he said to me before he stomped away. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t understand what’s happened,” Maid said, watching him go. “He’s usually so happy-go-lucky and good-natured …”
I had to sit down on a log. The use of taa left me temporarily weakened.
“Are you all right, Kadar San?”
“I will be fine in a few minutes.”
She sat next to me. Atlas and Sergeant Shiva were examining the dead insect-beast, what remained of it, and the others were returning to their places in the march. Maid looked worried.
“What’s happening to all of us, Kadar?” she asked in a strained voice. “We seem to be … well, different. Growling and snapping at each other, even fighting. All of us except you. You know what it is, don’t you, Kadar San?”
I decided it was better that I not share my suspicions, even with her, until I could be more certain. How did one explain feelings about a presence that could not be seen or, with that one exception aboard the pod, heard or detected in any way by Gorilla’s sophisticated gadgets?
“Sometimes …” Maid hesitated, her brows knitting. “Sometimes it’s like I feel somebody else … Something …”
It’s like the planet is coming alive … she thought.
“I overheard Atlas and Blade talking,” she confided presently. “They think the trouble is you. They think you’re communicating with the Blobs to lead us into a trap. They think you are a Homelander and that the Homelanders are conspiring with the Blobs.”
“What do you think?”
&n
bsp; “Captain Amalfi says there’s no proof of that. Ferret and Gorilla go along with whatever he says. Sergeant Shiva is … well, he’s Sergeant Shiva and handles problems when they develop.”
“And you, Pia?”
She looked directly at me. “You wouldn’t have saved Atlas’ life if you wanted us to die.”
She turned away, then turned back again.
“Kadar San, does what’s happening to us have something to do with the insane laughter in the pod?”
“I cannot be sure.”
She looked at me for a long, searching moment. I felt her uncertainty, her confusion, her determination. I felt her. It was like I went inside her and she inside me. I sent her a thought message: I will let nothing harm you, Pia.
C·H·A·P·T·E·R
SEVENTEEN
DRT-213 reached the lower foothills of the Blob mountains and began to climb. The hills were smooth and rounded and the vegetation thinned out some the higher we climbed. Storms actually seemed to die down during the short periods of darkness, but always returned with the watery dawn. From the top of a rocky promontory, we looked out over a wide purple-black valley to another ridgeline on the other side. Lightning popped and crashed and snapped like a pen full of caged Ganesh two-headed tigers. A spectacular and awesome display that kept nerves jagged. It wasn’t only the weather, however, that kept the DRT-bags of the team popping and crashing and snapping.
We selected a bony ridge to follow down-valley toward the area where previous sensors had localized Blob activity. Eventually, we came to a series of caves which afforded cover, concealment, and shelter against the weather. Captain Amalfi designated it an ORP — organizational rally point — from which scouting parties could be sent out to find the Blobs and recon them.
The valley should have been full of soldiers and activity if the Blobs were really building an assault base from which to launch an invasion of the galaxy. You couldn’t hide an entire invasion army in a valley no bigger than this; you couldn’t even hide an advance element from all the sophisticated aids, detectors and sniffers the team had brought along.
Gorilla’s molecular detector picked up no indications of Blob genetic material, nor could it uncover plastic or oil molecules that signified an alien robot presence. Maid sifted the air electronically for communications signals, without success. Gorilla dispatched one of the bug bots along the ridgeline to scout. It found … nothing.
Patrols returned to the cave to report the same failure. Ferret sniffed the water-clotted winds. He listened through the rumble and bang of lightning. Even though his body was equipped with various enhancements to the five natural senses, he finally shook his head in defeat.
Blade was an excellent tracker with something of the predator’s mien about him. He gave a go at picking up a Blob spoor. He and one of the bots examined the ridgeline in both directions. He returned disgruntled.
“Fu-uck,” he said in response to the Captain’s unspoken query.
The scar on Team Sergeant Shiva’s jaw looked taut and inflamed when he removed his helmet and faceplate to scan the valley basin inch by inch through powerful electronic binoculars.
“You’re a Sen,” Captain Amalfi said to me. It was almost an accusation.
My ears involuntary twitched in frustration. It puzzled me that my senses were unable to detect much activity in this mountainous valley basin in which the alien Blobs were supposedly concentrating their advance base.
“There is a Blob down there,” I said finally.
The Captain frowned. “A Blob? There should be hundreds.”
“I detect a single Blob.”
“What is he doing?” Sergeant Shiva asked.
“I cannot be sure. He is hardly doing anything. It is … almost like he is on autopilot or suspended animation … He is quite unconcerned. There is no martial feel to him. It is like he is simply going through the motions.”
Captain Amalfi paced back and forth at the mouth of the cave, agitated and puzzled. “It doesn’t make sense,” he fussed, talking mainly to himself. “A single enemy Blob does not build an advance assault camp. Nor does a single enemy account for the disappearances of the previous DRTs. DRT-418 was a strak team.”
That acknowledgment produced a minute of restive silence contemplating the fate of those who came before us. It began raining harder than ever, so that the rain across the cave entrance resembled a live curtain. Lightning flashed so brilliantly it lit up the entire cave and deposited among us the acrid odor and taste of ozone. Sergeant Shiva, who had gone outside to glass the valley yet again, returned through the rain curtain, dusting water off his cammies and shaking his crewcut free of rain.
“Maybe they’re building it underground,” he suggested.
“Sen,” Captain Amalfi said. “Would underground interfere with your … your reception?”
“The Blobs communicate telepathically,” I said. “I should be picking up something even if they have burrowed to the planet’s core.”
Atlas moved near, glaring at me suspiciously. “How do you know what the Blobs feel like? Where do you feel them at? In your brain, in your nuts?”
I thought I heard the Presence’s baleful snigger, but it was faint and none of the others heard.
“It is a gift, a Talent.”
“Fu-uck,” Blade rumbled.
A spider’s electric web crackled across the dark dome of the low sky outside the cave’s entrance. I felt hostility all around me, but none of it came from the valley. Even Maid looked at me in an odd way, like she didn’t quite trust me either.
What are you hiding, Kadar San?
Blade stepped up. “The elf is lying,” he said. “Can’t you see that, any of you? He knows something he’s not telling the rest of us.”
A discussion with Blade was like talking to a rock. Another old, old Earth expression I learned from Maid. As I had to avoid overt behavior at all costs — the Humans already distrusted me sufficiently — I reverted to passive aggressive defense and turned my back on Blade. It was a sign of disrespect among both Zentadon and Humans.
“We’re being sucked into a trap!” Blade roared. “Ask this tailless elf.”
He grabbed my shoulder to spin me around to face him. I planted myself. He was unable to move me. I chuckled with satisfaction. Blade stepped back in astonishment that his muscular enhancements seemed to have failed him. I turned slowly on my own to look at him.
Captain Amalfi interceded before Blade could collect his thoughts. I suspected collecting his thoughts would be a major challenge for him.
“At ease, Sergeant Kilmer,” the Team Leader commanded. “That will be all of that.”
“A trap,” Blade reiterated. He glowered at me, then walked off, deliberately fondling his Gauss.
“The Blobs are up to something,” the Captain pondered, staring out past the rain curtain. “It’ll be dark again soon. Place the bots on near perimeter with a constant monitor watch. We’ll scout the Blobs when it’s light again.”
I offered to take first monitor watch as a gesture of peace.
“Ferret will take it,” Sergeant Shiva interjected. “Followed by Gorilla, Blade, Atlas, and Maid. In that order.”
That said how much he trusted me.
“I’ll be doing a monitor watch on him,” Blade said, jabbing a finger at me. He patted his Gauss for emphasis.
This time I knew I heard the snigger.
C·H·A·P·T·E·R
EIGHTEEN
DAY FIVE
Captain Amalfi and Sergeant Shiva called for a move the next morning; we had thoroughly scouted out this particular AO — area of operations. We continued down-valley with the intention of crossing over to the far ridgeline and taking a look there. A wildlife trail led through the forest on the side of the ridge. Three inches of rainwater turned it into a miniature river, but it was still easier going than cutting fresh trail. The downpour reduced visibility to a matter of yards. Out front on point, Ferret was forced to depend upon the robots for early warni
ng. The crack of lightning, the snapping and writhing of struck trees, the bellow and boom and din of the continuing storm all but negated the effectiveness of his hypersensitive implants.
“When this is over,” Atlas complained, “I’m moving to a desert where it never rains. Want to go with me, Maid?”
She didn’t answer.
From the middle of the march with the C&C element, I looked back and ahead when the trail opened up and saw most of the team. I noticed that our chameleons were beginning to fail. One or the other of the team would suddenly flicker into full view as a Human form rather than the IR heat source our helmets provided, then just as suddenly merge back into the surroundings. I assumed the dreadful weather was causing the dangerous little glitches.
It was no problem as yet, as long as none of us flashed into view at a critical moment, such as when we ran into a Blob patrol or encountered a predator. I gently probed Captain Amalfi’s thoughts and discovered he was also concerned about it. The intervals of uniform failures and our coming into full view of all and sundry were bound to lengthen until they became more than an inconvenience.
“Ferret, I see you,” Gorilla hissed.
“Close yours eyes. The damned cammies are going.”
We had almost reached the point where the trail cut up the ridge and down into a narrows to cross over to the other ridgeline when Ferret gave the danger signal. He barked crisply through the intercom: “Off the trail!”
The team split to either side, SOP. I was on one side of the trail, Maid on the other. Her chameleons flicked off, making her visible not only to me but also to anything else that happened by. What was happening by was a beast that we had not come across before. I watched it as it approached along the path, passing Ferret and Gorilla without noting their presence. Their chameleons were functioning properly. The imposing creature was about the size of a tracked land rover and resembled some hellish cross between a desert fanged scorpion and a horned dung beetle. Its long, ridged tail of a blistered orange in color curled up over its back and rode at alert above its triangular head. A barbed harpoon protruded from the end of its tail.
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