Deathbeast

by David Gerrold

  Kalen seized the bolt with both hands and tugged at it, gently working it loose. Loevil peered with awe at the depth its impact had driven it, as well as the trueness of the aim.

  “You’ve got to do your killing by hand,” Kalen was saying. “That’s the civilized way, you know—it gives the prey a chance to kill you back.” He looked at Loevil. “Don’t you think that’s fair?” He seemed upset at something. The bolt came out with a jerk.

  Loevil was noncommittal. “That’s why it’s such a great sport,” he said, keeping his voice carefully flat.

  Kalen gave him another look—a suspicious squint, as if to ask, “Are you mocking me?” Instead, he said, “Sure—except, what if you have people depending on you? Do you have the right to risk your life then?” He started back without waiting for an answer.

  Loevil shrugged offhand and followed. He’d always made it a firm rule not to get involved in the personal lives of clients—and Kalen sounded as if he wanted to unload himself of some of his feelings.

  Loevil said carefully, as he caught up, “I don’t know— I don’t have anyone depending on me, and I think I want to keep it that way.”

  Kalen said, “We’re depending on you.”

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  Loevil shook his head. “Not any more. You’re depending on Ethab.”

  “What if he makes a mistake?”

  “Then it’s his mistake.” Loevil said it without feeling. “He’s already made one mistake.” Kalen spoke quietly, “He is capable of error—I proved that when I put a knife in him.”

  “He fired us—” Loevil reminded. “He does have that right.”

  Kalen was thoughtful. “Supposedly, you and Megan' know more about the Cretaceous than any other pair of guides—”

  “Supposedly...agreed Loevil. “Supposedly we know more about avoiding trouble than finding it—but you couldn’t prove it by this hunt.”

  They were almost within earshot of the others now, and Kalen fell silent. What he was saying to Loevil bordered on the disloyal. Not that he was, of course—it was just that he did have ... doubts, once in a while.

  “We’re not scientists,” said Loevil, stopping Kalen with a touch on the arm. “We’re not heroes either. We’re just—guides, that’s all. We have expertise, and we have some familiarity with the neighborhood. But the Cretaceous lasted seventy million years—and that’s a lot of territory to try to be familiar with. If you want to know the truth, we’re almost as much strangers here as you are.” He stopped, then added in a quieter tone of voice, “There—it’s out. The big secret is revealed. The guides really don’t know anything. The emperor really is naked.”

  Kalen studied him, respecting his honesty, but wondering nonetheless, “Then, why have guides at all?” “Even a little experience available is better than none at all. Besides, if a hunter starts to go totally out of control, burning everything that mQves—and it has

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  happened—it’s the job of the guide to stop him.” He put particular emphasis on the last phrase—it didn’t need more explanation.

  Kalen was concerned. He looked off toward the others. He looked back to Loevil and asked softly, “Is that what you’d do to Ethab?”

  Loevil looked toward Ethab too. “Probably not. He’s a better shot than I am, I wouldn’t have a chance. Of course..he started to add, speculatively, “I could always shoot him in the back, if I had to.” Kalen’s face went hard with disgust; Loevil quickly added, “—but I don’t think I’ll have to. Ethab’s probably going to get himself killed if he keeps on like he’s been doing.”

  Kalen didn’t soften. The moment of trust was over. This little man—all beard and wiry-curly hair—was talking about killing his friend. “You know,” he said. “If you kill Ethab, you’ll probably have to kill me too.” Loevil met his gaze head on. “I know,” he said. “But, like I said, I don’t think I’ll have to. At least, I hope I won’t. But if I do—I want you to remember that I’m only doing my job. It isn’t anything personal.”

  “Have you ever—?” Kalen didn’t finish the sentence. Loevil’s eyes were veiled. “We’re not supposed to talk about it. In fact, I’ve already told you more than I should have.” He thought a moment, then looked at Kalen honestly. “Friendship is friendship and all that—but you ought to consider if he’s worth dying for.”

  “He’s my friend,” said Kalen.

  “Well, just think about it, that’s all.”

  “Just one question. Do you think we’d be better off with you and Megan running things?”

  “I thought I’d answered that. It doesn’t make any difference. Frankly, I’d just as soon leave it the way it is right now, with Ethab as the honcho. That way, we’re

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  not responsible if—and when—he dies. There’ll be no stigma on the guides.”

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “To tell the truth,” Loevil admitted, “no, I’m not. But if I don’t necessarily have expertise in this part of the Cretaceous, I do have some experience with the way our great white hunters react to dinosaurs in general—and Ethab isn’t any different from the last five assholes who died back here trying to kill something bigger than they were. Oh, and I will tell you this—in a way, Megan and I are still running things. It’s easier to let Ethab run around thinking he’s in charge than to—”

  Kalen was staring at him. “You’re full of shit,” he said. “You know that? You’re full of shit. Whether you’re letting him, or whether he’s doing it by himself, he’s still doing it—!”

  Loevil was momentarily nonplussed. He recovered quickly and said, “Well, you’re his friend. You do something—maybe he’ll listen to you.”

  “Well, maybe—just maybe, I like the way he’s doing things. Maybe I don’t want to change a thing.”

  “Then what’re we talking about?” asked Loevil. “They’re looking at us—let’s go.” And he walked away from Kalen, leaving him staring at his departing back and unconsciously fingering his pistol.

  They crossed the meadow to its other side. They would be a little farther from the kill, but they had a better vantage. The meadow sloped upward toward a rocky crest; on the opposite side of the crest the ground fell away into a barren jumble of gullies, then rose up again toward steeper crags of black and silver. There was a jut of broken rocks just at the meadow’s edge—they chose it for the shelter it provided from marauders, and they were higher here—they could scan a wider vista.

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  Ethab waited till the camp was settled, then he moved up toward the point—a bump of forward boulders half a hundred meters closer to the bait; Nusa waited for him there—she’d been assigned to keep a watch.

  Ethab climbed up beside her and looked out over the field. In the distance, there were scavengers already working at the corpses of the baby chasmosaur and its orange killer. Several different kinds of carrion-eaters chewed the carcasses, mostly birdlike ones; some had hairy spines or quills, others seemed to be in the process of developing feathers—they hung like mottled rags along their arms. These were the smaller scavengers; they ate insects and small animals mostly, the feathers serving as nets to snag the flying things out of the air. But they didn’t mind a feast of baby chasmosaur or deinonychus if it were free; of course not—nobody ever turned down a free meal; that was a good way to get thrown out of the Guild.

  One of the larger creatures snarled at a smaller one and chased it away from the same leg of chasmosaur that it was working on; then returned grumpily to its meal before another, and larger, beast could claim it first. After a moment the smaller one returned, but chose the deinonychus carcass instead.

  “Think he’ll come?” asked Nusa.

  “He’ll come,” said Ethab. “Nightfall.”

  He fell silent.

  “What about us?” she asked.

  He shrugged-the question off. “What about u
s?”

  “Just what I said. What about us? Is it all over?”

  He wasn’t looking at her. “Whatever you want, Nusa.” “Whatever I want? Don’t you want anything?”

  “What I want, I get.” He looked over at her. “I’ve already had you.”

  Nusa flushed—both with embarrassment and anger.

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  She didn’t know what to reply. She reached for the cheap shot—"Once was enough?”

  Ethab stared out at the feasting multitudes. “Let me put it this way,” he said distractedly. “I like a challenge.

  I like a mystery.” He glanced at her to see if she was listening, then turned back to the field. A small green nightmare, hardly a meter tall, but very nasty looking, had ambled up to join the festival. The other scavengers eyed him warily, then moved aside to offer him a place at the table. He didn’t even say thank you, just shoved his muzzle in and began feeding. He seemed a relative of the deinonychus—-but then, most of the predators in this time zone were bipedal. Ethab sighted on it with his rifle, but didn’t fire. “You don’t have any mystery any more, Nusa.” His tone was conversational; he spoke without emotion. “I know everything there is to know about you. I know what you’re going to say before you say it. I know what you’re going to do. You can’t surprise me, because there’s nothing in you that I haven’t figured out.” And now I’m bored with you. But he left that last unspoken.

  Nusa looked off toward the trees, the sky, the rocks, the grass—anywhere but Ethab. I don’t know how to handle this, she thought. She looked out at the dinosaurs. “By nightfall, there won’t be anything left.” She turned to climb down from the rocks, but Kalen and Loevil were just coming up. Behind them followed Megan. “Tril’s safely bedded down,” she called. As she stepped up onto the rocks, she caught the look on Nusa’s face, a bitter one, and asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” said Nusa, covering badly. “I was just pointing out that the way those scavengers are feeding, there won’t be anything left by nightfall. We won’t have any bait.”

  Ethab spoke in that most gentle and deadly voice of

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  his, “And I was just telling her that if she wanted to, she could have the next kill.”

  Nusa looked back at Ethab. “With a bowie knife? Or would a blazer-rifle be cheating?”

  “Whatever you think you need,” Ethab said.

  She took a step past him and bent to pick up her rifle.

  He said, “Hmp.”

  She continued the motion of picking up the rifle, put it to one side and picked up the long knife that had been lying beneath it. She straightened and faced Ethab, pointing the knife at him as she unsheathed it. For a moment their eyes met. Her face was angry, his was calm—almost uninterested. They assessed each other, then Nusa snorted and turned to go. She bumped head-on into Kalen—he had to catch her arm to keep from being stabbed. He had his own knife in his other hand. “Sorry,” he said. “This one is mine.”

  Nusa’s anger flared. Frustrated, she looked to Ethab—

  Grinning, he half shrugged and spread his hands. “Fight him for it....”

  Thafs just what you both want! she realized. “The hell with it,” she said, and threw her knife down to the grass below. “Get stuffed—the both of you! I hope you’ll be very happy together.” She grabbed her rifle and slid down off the rocks. She retrieved her knife and walked off a little way. Ethab and Kalen traded grins; they could have each been looking in a mirror.

  Kalen dropped down off the rocks, with Loevil following. He unsheathed his knife and looked out across the field.

  “Uh—” said Loevil. “I wouldn’t do that—”

  Kalen looked at him disdainfully.

  “Teeth,” explained Loevil. “Those things have teeth.”

  “So do I,” replied Kalen, holding up his knife.

  He turned and headed out across the field.

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  Loevil shrugged and sighed and shook his head. “They never learn....” He looked up toward the rocks and exchanged a glance with Megan. She nodded meaningfully and he unslung his rifle.

  Ethab slowly turned his head and looked directly at her....

  His eyes were deep as doorways into Hell. Pale gray and deadly looking. They held no emotion whatsoever. Just command.

  She tore her gaze away. Loevil looked up at her ques- tioningly.

  “Let him go,” she said. “They canceled our contract.”

  “It’s his funeral,” said Loevil, but he lowered his rifle.

  Something zipp-whoooped past his ear like a siren—he dropped to the ground even before the air finished ringing. Kalen too was flattened out; the blazer-bolt had passed even closer to him—

  The quick red flash leapt out and touched the little dragon-impersonator, shocking him high into the air and piercing through him like lightning. He didn’t even have a chance to spasm with the pain before the flesh began to char right off his bones. The scavenger bird-things cawed and flapped off, startled, then returned to inspect this newer corpse curiously. When it cooled, it might be food.

  Kalen raised his head up from the grass and looked—

  Nusa stood upon a flattened boulder, her blazer in her hand. She lowered the rifle nonchalantly, and smiled innocently, “Go ahead, Kalen. I softened him up for you.”

  Kalen stamped back toward her. His face was reddening. “What the hell was that for? You could have killed me!”

  Nusa’s voice was tinged with irony. “I guess I got carried away in the excitement.”

  He came up to her, pointing his knife. There was

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  purpose in his eyes. But before he took the last two steps, she raised her rifle at his chest, as if to say, “I still could kill you.”

  Loevil stepped between them quickly but casually. With one hand he pushed her rifle barrel to one side; with the other, he hung his scanner by its strap on Kalen’s knife hand. “Hold that for me, will you please?”

  Startled, the two of them looked at him. He raised himself to his full height of thirteen meters, and said firmly, “All right now, back off!” The tone of command was all they needed—someone to tell them no. They each stepped back a bit, and Loevil flicked, into a lighter mode. “You’re not the first idiots who wanted to go hand-to-hand with one of those things. They don’t mind, not really. They’ll eat anything.”

  “You didn’t stop Ethab—” Nusa started.

  “He’s bigger than me.” :

  Megan was already striding into the fray, “Besides, he has electronic augments and implants. You don’t.”

  “And,” added Loevil, “we like you.”

  Kalen interrupted them. “Your contract was cancelled” A brief flicker passed between himself and Loevil, an echo of a previous talk.

  Megan looked straight into Kalen’s face. “As guides, yes—she admitted. “But we still have a responsibility to bring you back alive, whether you like it or not. If there’s to be any more hunting, you’ll do it with your rifles or not at all.”

  Kalen stared right back at her. Out of the side of his eye, he became aware of the look on Loevil’s face. I told you so, didn’t I? he seemed to be saying. Kalen’s mind worked like a clock. He considered twenty different answers, a spectrum of responses—then discarded each of them as fast as it was formed. The hell with it, he decided. It isn’t worth fighting about.

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  —But what about the woman? his inner conscience questioned. Are you going to let her browbeat you? He stared into her eyes—and blinked—and decided, In this case, yes. Women with expressions like that are dangerous. “This trip is a disaster,” he announced. He threw his knife down to the ground, and the scanner too, declaring, “What a waste!”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Megan said. “It’s the last Time Hunt you’ll ever
go on, if I have anything to say about it. And I do.”

  Kalen didn’t answer her. He just glared. Women like that have teeth in their pussies anyway. But he didn’t say it aloud.

  He looked to Nusa, accusingly. It’s your fault too.

  “Sorry,” she shrugged.

  He turned away from her—

  “You can prove your manhood next tune,” said Loevil. A miscalculation. He stepped past Kalen, never noticing the explosion of hatred on his face; Kalen couldn’t hit a woman, but a man was something else—

  Three quick steps and he caught Loevil’s shoulder. He grabbed him with a grip like dragon jaws and spun him around hard to face him—Loevil came up with his pistol pointed right at Kalen’s nose. Kalen blinked at it confusedly.

  “I said... next time.” Loevil’s voice was absolutely calm.

  Kalen released his . grip on Loevil’s shoulder, almost instinctively. He respected guns.

  “I told you, didn’t I?” Loevil met his eyes. “Now do you believe me?”

  Kalen stood there, breathing heavily, refusing to react —refusing to let himself react. His expression remained angry—but the fires inside were being banked; Loevil could almost see the process happening as Kalen’s features

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  worked. He wouldn’t blow up now, he couldn’t. It’d be a loss of face to keep fighting now—Kalen had learned that it was all right to lose a battle, so long as you never surrendered the whole war. And he hadn’t surrendered that. Not yet. Not ever.

  He turned away almost petulantly and crossed toward Ethab, muttering softly. He threw himself down on the ground and ripped open a package of ration bars. He bit into one with fury.

  Behind him, Loevil kept his face expressionless. He reholstered his pistol slowly. Then he and Megan turned away to check on Tril.

  And above, watching all of this from his vantage on the rocks, Ethab sat grinning. He enjoyed a good fight— even as a spectator.

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  By the time the sun was nearing dusk, there were three more carcasses for the scavengers to feed upon. Carrion attracted carrion-eaters, so the crowd of bird-things and jackal-things kept growing. Periodically Ethab or Kalen would bum a few of them with their blazers, interrupting the banquet only momentarily—within minutes the hungriest of the scavengers would come creeping and sniffing back. And within a few more minutes after that, they would be screeching and squawking at each other all over again, arguing over the burnt flesh before them.