Bloodhype

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  "You're kidding. The thing is utterly alien. And too big.,,

  "As far as we know, bloodhype's nearly a universal drug. And as far as the thing's size is concerned you know what a milligram of that powder can do. What about a few kilos? According to the reports, the monster ingests its food and expels practically nothing in the way of -waste products. It's a super-efficient metabolic factory ... Hitting or shooting the creature with the powder could have several effects. Open, it might be absorbed immediately. That would be ideal, of course, since the powder would go into the thing's digestive system rapidly. Or the powder might be ingested first, without the case."

  "Or," interrupted Mal, "the monster might ignore it entirely. In that case the effort wouldn't be just useless, it'd be suicidal, because the thing's sure to notice the shooters. And if the powder were released at the wrong time, we'd be likely to get a pretty good whiff ourselves."

  "I still think it's worth a try. Chances are we won't be able to dig the case out anyway."

  "Agreed. But I'm beginning to see that no one's going to leave this planet until that thing is destroyed. And I've about as much confidence in the peaceforce at Repler City doing that as I do of finding that case."

  "Then why let it upset you?" Kitten smiled.

  Mal was staring hard out the glassite port. He moved to a swivel-mounted viewer, stared a moment longer. "I think we'll have to revise our guess about everyone in the Enclave being killed."

  "Oh? What is it?"

  "Unless this viewer is badly scratched, I believe our case, with friend Rose still attached, is coming to meet us. Yes, without doubt."

  "Damn the man!" She actually stomped her foot. "How is it that such people are always the ones who manage to survive?"

  "Carrion-eaters grow tough with age, Kitten. Hardly a new revelation. He'll pass as portside soon." He cut off and grabbed for a chair as Kitten threw the raft into a screaming turn. Clouds of spray flew meters high as the fans hit the water at an angle, threatening to turn them over.

  "We'll catch him," she said grimly. "We're faster than he is. Where does he think he's heading, anyway? We'll be in city waters in five minutes. Doesn't he know he can be shot on sight?"

  "He knows where he's heading. If he's still got that case of powder with him and if the wind's right, he could try and blackmail the Governor this time. Once it gets in the air there's no way to fight the stuff. You couldn't treat the whole population soon enough any more than you could get them all into pressure suits in time. The city couldn't take that kind of epidemic. Let me see if I can raise him on 'cast."

  Mal made a few adjustments on the transceiver. "Waveskimmer, waveskimmer. Hoveraft behind you. We are closing. Please respond, you bastard." No answer. "Doesn't the old idiot know the Vern is around here somewhere? There are easier ways of committing suicide."

  No picture, no response. "You're in a maximum danger area, Rose! Wake up!"

  Static; scratchy voice. "I know, Hammurabi." The onboard computer matched frequencies and the voice cleared. "I'm bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, to use an archaism better suited to your Tolian tagalong. Tain't dangerous for me! I know what I'm about."

  "Crazy," Mal whispered to Kitten.

  "Not by half, boy! I seem to keep running into you lately. Bad luck for -both of us. Klashing Karmas. You alone?"

  "Lieutenant Kai-sung is with me."

  "Call me that once more," she murmured, "and I'll break your head."

  "Listen, you touchy ... !"

  "My, my, dissension, dissension!" Rose's tone was mocking. "I am in desperate straits, I see clearly. Why not wise up and try a profitable, predictable life in subtle evasion of accepted convention, Hammurabi?"

  "And be secure in my old age, like you? Huh-uh, Rose."

  "Have you got the drug with you?" interrupted Kitten, unable to hold off any longer.

  "My life-insurance? You must be joking."

  "We want it," said Mal. "We want you, too, but I'd be willing to pass over that if you turn the stuff over."

  "I've already had one offer pulled back on me. I don't think I'm ready to try the same again so soon. Let me think on it a mite. I've always been a gambler. I've still got a few chips left."

  "Convince him! You're supposed to be the salesman!" Kitten whispered. "We're getting too close to the city." The computer indicated the shrinking distance between themselves and the island of Will's Landing, on which Repler City had been built.

  "I've no time to argue with you, Rose. Turn about and hand the drug over and I'll see . . . "

  "No good, Hammurabi. Sorry, lad. If this works out and you change your mind about me, I night give you a job as a taskmaster."

  "Taskmaster?" Mal whispered to Kitten. "He is crazy!"

  "See, lad, I know a good bit more about this monster than you think I know. I even know more than you think I know you know. I believe some sort of agreement wherein I supply, oh, locations of certain storehouses, general information, military advice and so forth might work out to mutual benefit. This thing has wants. I don't know how well it reads minds yet, or when."

  "Listen, old man, you're asking for a quicker death than any you'd get from your own kind. There's more at stake here than your life. Or ours. Turn the drug over and forget any insane ideas you've got about trying to ally yourself with the alien. You won't even make a decent-sized snack."

  "You haven't got another choice," Kitten added.

  "How kind of you to be so solicitous of my health, little bird." He paused. "Your urgency intrigues me. You want the drug but are willing to let me go. What are you going to do, go into business for yourself?" he sneered.

  "We think it might have some effect on the monster," she pleaded. Mal looked at her approvingly. This was a new act. It had appeal.

  Rose only found it amusing. Or perhaps he found everything funny now. He laughed openly.

  "You -ascribe too much power even to jaster! Now if you were to personally guarantee my safety ... off-planet transportation ... immunity from prosecution ... why, I might, just might, consider it."

  "I ... I can't. Not with you. With what you've done. I can't promise that for others."

  "Ha! You see?"

  "No, wait, wait!" Her face was taut. "Mal, see if you can raise the Rectory. There might be a channel open. I think the Major would consent to the bargain."

  "You're really going to try and make a deal with that old scum? After what he had done to you? After what he was going to have done to you?"

  "Don't make this any harder than it is, please!" She looked at him and this time it wasn't an act, no.

  Mal adjusted the transceiver to tune in to any open Rectory frequency. "That's the first time you ever asked me a favor instead of threatening or blackmailing your way into it."

  "Oh, shut up."

  Expectedly, Orvenalix wasn't available. Kitten got him available.

  "Well, Lieutenant, things are certainly interesting around here." He twitched his antennae in a motion indicating thranx sarcasm. "How does your garden grow?" " 'Ple astwin nirer, hyl.' Quite contrary, taking m certain cogent points." She explained the situation.

  "I've linked up as you suggested," came Rose's voice clearly. The multiple hookup was crude, but would serve. "Tridee also. No tricks, now."

  "You know who I am?" asked Orvenalix.

  "My guardian angel? How could I help but know you Major? You've cost me a lot, in the past."

  "Would that it were more. I shall concur with the Lieutenant's recommendations in all respects."

  "Swear by your hive-mother, the Queen, and your larval corridor."

  "Done," said Orvenalix, after rattling off a long string of ancient thranx no one could understand. They apparently satisfied Rose, however.

  Orvenalix betrayed none of the fury he must have felt. Restraining emotions as strong as that would drive many humans mad. Such emotional control was accepted matter-of-factly among the thranx.

  "For all, uh, past discrepancies as well?"

  "All that
I have jurisdiction over. You'll have to take your chances on other worlds. I have only so much authority. You're stretching it now. Turn over the drug."

  There was a long pause during which the only sound from Rose's end was that of the wind eddying across the pickup.

  A sigh. "Oh, well, all right. It was a long-shot idea anyway. I think I was over-rationalizing for a while, there."

  "He's slowing!" Kitten shouted, switching her gaze from the raft 'tector to the port.

  "You honestly think that bloodhype will have any effect on that monster?" asked Mal.

  She looked past him, at a spot on the far wall. "Maybe not. But I don't think anything else will either, except maybe what Peot can do. If that fails, you know the alternative. The drug has to be tried."

  Rose slid over into the lee of one of the innumerable tiny islets that speckled Repler. They were so close to the city the towers of the central business district could be seen clearly. -

  "Have the case ready," instructed Mal over the comm. "And no tricks yourself. I'd as lief break your neck as make money."

  "Impressive warning! Tricks, from me? Insults! I'm now an honest man, absolved of past sin. Didn't you hear? As clear of conscience and ..."

  "Pious, isn't he? Enjoys rubbing it in."

  "Ready to convert, no doubt," said Kitten. "The man leaves a sour taste. To let him go free like this-that damn drug!"

  "I'll try not to do anything crazy, like busting him one. Remember: Phrases of Import and Salvation, The Book, Chapter IX: 'To be angered by evil is to partake of it ... stupid.'"

  "You're a student?"

  "I've read some of The Book. Who hasn't?"

  They pulled alongside the waveskimmer. It rocked gently in the slight swell, engines idling. Mal could see Rose strapped into the pilot's seat on the high foredeck. Kitten cut their own engines and he glanced back at her. "Want to do the honors?"

  "Every time I set eyes on that person my faith in humanity drops several notches. It's rock bottom now." She swiveled in her chair. "At least the case is intact. No drug, no pardon. You do it."

  Mal grunted, took a step towards the door. When his foot came down, the floor wasn't there anymore.

  The deck dropped away from under him, bounced up at a different angle. Mal found himself tumbling head over reason. The far wall turned into a ceiling, came up too fast. Dazed, he struggled to his knees while the ship played cocktail shaker around him. Several loud clangs .sounded from the rear of the raft. Kitten screamed. He turned in her direction.

  She was still strapped into the pilot's seat, silhouetted against the gray sky. A jet-black curtain shot through with silver was shutting out the light. The blackness that finally overcame him was of a more familiar variety.

  Down in the abyss of its vast consciousness, a miniscule portion of the Vom-mind noted the incident. It was recorded and filed for further attention. It could not be spared time for follow-up or evaluation. Not now. Worlds were at stake.

  On some parts of Repler, iron changed unnoticed to gold. And on at least one island, to copper. Then back again. Fish of a hundred different varieties schooled, forming unnatural association.

  A small, peaceful crustacean reeled under the impact of an intelligence boost of a hundred thousand times. It was immediately gobbled by a torpid bottom feeder.

  The second moon, which continued to spin counterclockwise, abruptly lowered its orbit a hundred kilometers.

  Repler VI and VII were both gas giants. They began to break up, responding to titanic internal convulsions. Great clouds of ammonia and methane flew off like cotton into space.

  On a large island, a snake-like reptile was trying to slither from one branch to one on another tree. Limbless body, straining. A force capable of destroying continents acted. Another pushed and lifted. A nanosecond of conflict. The pseudosnake leaped, missed. Fell and died. It was more important than an exploding gas giant or massscale transmutation. The killer knew it. The lifter knew it.

  A rock spoke. The temperature of the sun rose, fell, rose again. There was a sudden high tide with no moon in the sky. Moral considerations aside, it was apparent that the Vom

  was winning.

  With the resources of half a million years of accumulated knowledge and power, the Guardian-Machine fought back. Rut it had waited too long. Its power was finite. It could not grow as the Vom was, growing. Too strong, too quickly. Miscalculation. The Guardian Machine foresaw disaster.

  The Vom was stronger now than it had been even when the Guardian was first activated, millenia ago. The stimulus of battle forced it to grow exponentially. It would forge another empire dedicated to, constructed for, one purpose. The perpetuation and greater glory of the Vom. There would be no mistakes this time. No underestimation of an opponent. The Guardian must be rendered permanently inactive. This time the Vom would not abuse its life-resources. The small intelligences would be assimilated carefully, to insure continuation of a healthy ecosystem. No wanton consumption. Feeding would be judicious, entertainment and experiment well reasoned. It would ...

  Something struck the Vern elsewise. Something strange, new, unaccountable, and utterly undetected aforehand. It was raw strength, more powerful even than the Guardian-Machine, but not as mature, as sophisticated in the use of power. It was different and it showed. It fought unrelentingly, uncompromisingly, openly. It fought mathematically diverse and helically perverse.

  Unemotionally the Vom retreated, countered, struck back. The counterattack rebounded. No victory; no defeat.

  The stalemate was resumed.

  A hundred parsecs away a quartz pebble (not very good quartz, but honest quartz) blazed momentarily with the light of a thousand suns. There were none around to appreciate it. The light died, but the pebble lived.

  Stalemate.

  "Well what is it, Hanover?" Ashvenarya said gruffly. It would not have been proper nor seemly for a thranx to be upset this far from action, but the Admiral was tense nonetheless. Given the peculiarities of the situation, he felt it justified.

  "We are within influence of the system, sir. The fleet is going off YI£ drive and..."

  "I know that, lieutenant. The flagship went off it nearly thirty minutes ago and I should damn well hope the others followed suit. Get to your point."

  "Sir, there appears to be another fleet already in orbit around the planet. Since we've received no official notification of another major force in this sector I thought ..."

  The admiral was already running for the lift, rubbing at his bad compound eye with silicon-treated tissue. The lieutenant had to move awkwardly, running every few steps. The old sector commander was moving on all four legs.

  "You retain information like a machine, Hanover. Which is one of the reasons I keep you as aide. Egg knows there're few enough. You're quite correct. I ordered no other ships sent to Repler and there aren't any other Church or Commonwealth forces close enough to be here before us. Which leaves one alternative. Whoever mans those ships is neither human nor thranx. I admit that's not logical either, but then nothing about this situation has been so far."

  The lift carried them to the bubble nexus suspended in the center of the battlewagon.

  "Preliminary evaluation?" Ashvenarya barked as he floated smoothly down a rampway.

  "The distance is still substantial, sir, and we have the sun full in front. Ship's predictors read thirty-nine confirmed, with at least twelve probables. Battle-fleet class, sir."

  "Tunnels! Now I have this to worry on, too."

  "I confess surprise, sir, that the commander of the local garrison did not try to warn you via interspace of this fleet's presence."

  "Orvenalix is a capable officer, Lieutenant. I don't doubt he didn't because he couldn't. Or he might have tried and been jammed, coerced, shot ... we swam in ignorance for now."

  They entered a gravity lock, slipped slowly and easily into free-fall. It wasn't true free-fall, being rather a state in which artificial gravity was negated. Something like swimming through thin gelati
n. The complex state, difficult to maintain, was generated only at the center of the ship, its battle headquarters and flight center. A military secret as fanatically guarded as the mechanism of the KK SCCAM weapons-system, the field would protect them from everything but complete power loss or direct hit.

  "For another thing, lieutenant he might have feared the AAnn would pick up and decode a message that might precipitate action."

  "You suspect them then, sir?"

  "They have a naval base of considerable size nearby. I know of few other races cohabiting this section of space that could mount a force of this size, even if they had the time to assemble them from across the Arm. Anyway, I would assume it to be our reptilian compatriots even were this a small force. With a fleet, I think the question becomes academic."

  "Do you think they may already have ... ?"

  "No, no, lieutenant. Were that the case, we would have heard something."

  Churchmen of many races, with thranx and human predominating, saluted smartly when the Admiral floated into the battle center. He returned them easily with a truhand while heading rapidly for his combat basket. The lieutenant took up his own post nearby.

  The old Commander had run a thousand possibilities and alternatives through his mind while conversing with his young human aide. The thoughts itched. Incidentally, he reflected that Lieutenant Hanover-might metamorphose into a fine commander someday. Despite the mask of fawning innocence he occasionally chose to wear, the lad was sharp as a sting. The mask was well-crafted, too. Another point in his favor. But he still needed honing and a lot of hard prodding in the imagination. He ought to receive plenty of both, this trip.

  "Communications! I'd appreciate it if you'd try and raise the flagship of our unknown visitors."

  At that moment a frail-looking thranx seated across the center, looking as much a part of his instrumentation as a computer terminal, turned slightly in his harness.

  "By remarkable coincidence, sir, I have this very second acquired a signal which appears directed at us from the formation in question. I envision a confluence of objectives."

  "Spare me the philosophy and put it through."