The Crimson Claw

by Deborah Chester

  A ridge of hair stood up along her spine, and the fur around her neck bristled. Still shielding her cubs protectively, Ampris growled.

  Ehssk laughed and came into the chamber. “Now, now, you mustn’t be a bad-tempered Aaroun. Let me see what you have.”

  “Get away,” she said, her eyes slitted dangerously. “This is a private time.”

  It was as though he didn’t hear her. He paid no attention and came right up to the bed, peering down at the cubs with glee. His tongue flicked out. “Three in your litter. Excellent. No stillborns, according to the report. All healthy, and measuring sixes and sevens on the Tefert Scale.”

  Ampris growled again. No one had touched her cubs since that initial examination. It had taken her hours of licking to clean away the stench of Viis hands on her babies. She wanted no more Viis stink on them, ever.

  “Get away,” she said.

  “Ampris, you will be a good Aaroun and cooperate with me,” he said, his voice more stern now. He met her eyes and his rill rose behind his head. “Let me have your cubs.”

  Her ears flattened against her skull. She glared at him through slitted eyes, her lips curled back from her teeth. She was past warning him. If he came closer, she would attack.

  “The report says two males and one female,” he went on, his voice calm and unafraid. His eyes remained as implacable as hers. “Pity it isn’t the other way around. It’s the females I need for my study.”

  The cubs mewed and shifted beneath her hand. Ampris lightened her grip on them, fear starting to squeeze her heart.

  “But although there’s only one female to dissect this time, there will be others the next time you give birth—”

  Roaring, Ampris sprang at him, intending to sink her fangs in his throat. But her weakness made her slow, and Ehssk jerked a stun-stick from his pocket and jolted her with it, full charge.

  The jangling paralysis gripped her, and Ampris fell across the bed, helpless and raging while Ehssk hummed to himself and took his time lifting and examining each cub in turn. He put down the males after the most cursory look.

  “Pity,” he said, then scooped up the female.

  She lifted her wobbly, misshapen head and spat at him.

  Ehssk tucked her in the crook of his arm and walked out. The door slammed shut, and the bright light dimmed.

  With all her might, Ampris strained to lift herself and go after him, but she could not move. She lay there for hours until the stun finally wore off, with her remaining cubs nuzzling her and crying for comfort. And Ampris wept for the daughter she would never hold again, for the daughter she would never see grow up tall and strong, for the daughter now lost to her forever.

  “Oh, little one, little one,” she sighed, while her tears ran unchecked and she gathered her frightened sons closer.

  How could the Viis be so cruel, so heartless? How could they deliberately create and destroy innocent little ones for their own selfish ends? Was Ehssk’s research worth such a sacrifice? Paket had told her that Ehssk was good at making vid appearances and getting government support, but that most of his experiments didn’t really work. He lied and covered up his mistakes. He was a fake, a hypocrite, and a charlatan.

  And now he had taken her daughter, as she had been taken from her mother. But Ampris’s little one would never be adopted by a lonely Viis chune, would never have a chance to play or grow up. Ampris’s daughter was born condemned, and she knew that at any time these other two cubs could be taken away to satisfy some Viis whim.

  Grieving, Ampris soothed and tried to comfort her sons, while in her heart she hated Ehssk, with a burning, relentless hatred deeper and stronger than any emotion she had ever felt before. He had gone too far. He had taken too much. If ever justice returned, she vowed, let there be a curse on this place and the Viis barbarians in it.

  Two days later, Ampris was taken back to her cage, along with her sons. The other abiru folk stayed quiet and left her alone with her grief. Even Niruo did not torment her, but simply brought her food and went on about his duties.

  Ampris spoke to no one but her cubs. She kept them close to her side, and each time a Viis tech came near her cage, she was swept with panic that he was going to remove her sons. She would spring at the wire, snarling and snapping her teeth viciously until the tech retreated. It took days for her to calm down, days for her to start believing that her remaining cubs were not wanted for any experimentation. But as the Viis staff continued to leave her alone, Ampris gradually settled and regained her mental balance. She named her sons Foloth and Nashmarl, after the Aaroun words for hope and courage. They lost their newborn scent and began to fill out, their stubby legs growing stronger and more sturdy daily. As they crawled about the cage, exploring at first, then learning to play and tumble each other at her feet, she always kept a vigilant eye on them.

  Then there came one evening when her mind grew clear, and once again she gave thought to the future.

  “Paket,” she said softly.

  He responded at once. “Yes, Ampris?”

  “Are the deliveries still random?”

  “Yes. We think they have a rotating schedule. Matiril is working out the pattern of it, but he will have to make sure for a few more weeks.”

  “Forget that plan,” Ampris said. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded harsh. “I have another.”

  All the abiru inmates sat up and looked at her.

  “A new plan?” Paket said. “What is it?”

  She met their eyes without doubt or hesitation. “It’s no longer enough to simply get away. We’re going to destroy this place.”

  Someone laughed in despair. Others began to talk among themselves, but Paket’s gaze never wavered from hers. “How?” he asked.

  A corner of her heart warmed to him. Good, steady Paket. He was the best of the bunch. She smiled at him. “Remember the zeron gas? Remember the pipe that goes through the Zrheli rookery?”

  The others fell silent.

  Paket’s eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

  “Follow that pipe, the next time you’re on cleaning detail. See if you can find out where it originates and where it goes. Does it pass through any other easily accessed areas besides the rookery?”

  “I’ll find out,” Matiril volunteered before Paket could answer. He looked uneasy. “It be a dangerous thing, Ampris. You sure—”

  “What have we to lose?” she asked harshly.

  Paket pointed at Foloth, who was clinging to her leg and trying to pull himself upright. “You got little ones to think of now.”

  “I am thinking of them,” she said. “When they are weaned, they will be taken from me and destroyed.”

  They stared at her, and her impatience grew. “Don’t you understand? Lua is gone. Shevin’s lits were taken. Now Shevin herself is gone. Ophah the Phivean is gone. No replacements have been bought.”

  “That’s because they spent all their funds on you,” Niruo’s voice muttered.

  Ampris looked around with a snarl, and there stood the Kelth in his dingy smock, trying to be a Viis for some kind of twisted, pathetic reasons of his own.

  She glared at him. “So, Niruo, you’ve come to betray us again. When will you learn where your allegiance should lie?”

  “With you, fanciness?” Niruo sneered. “How would Ehssk like it if I told him his special Ampris is plotting to destroy his lab?”

  “Ehssk won’t punish me, if that’s what you’re after,” she said boldly. “I’m still valuable to his plans. But you aren’t. Have you considered that? Maybe if they’re short on funds, they’ll put you in one of these cages and inject acid in your veins to see what happens.”

  Niruo’s ears snapped back and he snarled fearfully. “You’d like that, but it won’t happen. I got—” He stopped, as though aware he was about to say too much. He glared at her, and vanished.

  “Off he goes, to tell the whole plan,” Matiril said scornfully. “Ought to break his scrawny neck.”

  “That may be
necessary, when the time comes,” Ampris said, her cold tone making them stare, first in surprise, then in appreciation. “Now, back to the plan. First we find the access points of the gas pipe, and any weaknesses. Look for places of poor maintenance. Who’s been assigned to clean the offices this week?”

  “Me,” said Robuhl, an elderly Myal. He had once been a scholar and archivist at a Viis university. Now he was here because of political sabotage. Ampris nodded at him. He was perfect for her purposes.

  “Good, Robuhl,” she said. “Do you think you can find a manual for the building’s safety and emergency evacuation procedures?”

  Robuhl’s cage was at the far end of the row from hers, but Ampris could see him nodding vigorously. “I have seen it, both in hard form and a labeled data crystal in the storerooms. The techs never look at such materials. It is easily obtained.”

  “Good. As soon as you can, please get it to me,” Ampris said.

  “Can you read Viis, Ampris?” he asked her.

  “Yes.”

  Robuhl beamed and shook back his gray mane. “The power of learning is once again proven—”

  “Shut up, old one,” Matiril said impatiently. “What good does a book be to us?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Ampris told him. “It depends on how the building was designed to be evacuated.”

  “What do you mean?” Paket asked her. “How we going to get past the Viis techs to do these things?”

  “You’ll see,” Ampris said. “I’ll give you the details later, when I’m sure it can work. Matiril, examine the pipe. See if you can find any places where the Zrheli have broken the casing or tampered with the shielding.”

  “I’ll do it,” Matiril said.

  “You think the Zrheli will help us?” Paket asked her.

  She backed her ears. “No. I wish they would, but we can’t count on them. If their plan is similar to ours, it doesn’t matter. We’re going to take it from them and speed it up.”

  Several yips of protest broke out. “You don’t expect us to kill ourselves in here with the Zrheli, do you?” Matiril asked in horror.

  “No,” Ampris said. “We’re getting out. Count on it.”

  Snow blew through the streets of Lazmairehl, whipping around the tall ears of Elrabin and sticking with fluffy whiteness to his coat. He pressed himself deeper into the doorway of the abandoned building, shivering and tucking his hands under his arms to keep them warm.

  He was in the Skugvo, the derelict, dangerous side of town where empty buildings made of cheap metal construction stood rusting. Some of them were hardly more than shells, with their walls and roofs stripped away by scavengers. Windows were broken out. Doors hung askew and broken in. The wind blew without ceasing along the empty streets, and now and then a broken piece of dead scrub tumbled by.

  The desolate place creeped Elrabin, but he’d learned that the sniffers didn’t patrol the streets in the Skugvo. After narrowly evading capture and arrest several times for stealing food in the main part of town, Elrabin had ducked into this sector to let things calm down. He’d been in Lazmairehl almost three weeks now; winter had definitely set in, with frequent snows and a wind that sawed through him with bitter cold. Food was hard to come by. Worse, he’d had little luck getting past the suspicions of the main band of troublemakers in town.

  Abiru thieves and Viis Rejects had joined forces in the recent hard times. Growing constantly bolder as their desperation increased, they now raided the respectable side of town frequently, burning and looting until patrollers drove them back.

  Elrabin had sought them out when he’d first slunk into town, footsore and weary to the bone. But they had no interest in helping him rescue an Aaroun female, not even one as famous as Ampris had been. And when Elrabin was forced to admit he didn’t even know for sure if Ampris was still alive, they beat him up and kicked him out. Groaning in the gutter and fending off the Skeks trying to steal his rucksack, Elrabin ended up almost being arrested for vagrancy by a patroller. He got away, but it took considerable dodging to evade pursuit.

  Now Elrabin had to subsist on the fringes, avoiding everyone. He was starving, cold, and lonely. A new squad of patrollers had arrived in town this week, supplemented by the imperial army assigned to keep order during the imminent Hevrmasihd Festival, the main winter celebration of the Viis.

  Elrabin had been haunting public vids, keeping himself informed about the local news. He eavesdropped and spied, especially around the supply depot, where irregular transports departed with deliveries for Vess Vaas. It was tempting to steal aboard, but he knew he could do nothing to help Ampris by himself. He had to have assistance.

  And now he’d returned to Skugvo with an idea and the goal of asking the Rejects one more time for help.

  Finally, the hours of watching and shivering in this dank doorway paid off. Just before dusk, Elrabin saw a tall, hooded figure hunched over and hurrying down the empty street. Elrabin’s ears pricked forward. He drew in a deep, intent breath and rubbed his muzzle as he stepped silently out of the doorway and followed.

  Deep shadows crisscrossed the streets and pooled around the bases of buildings. The hooded figure was cautious and careful, stopping often to glance back, zigzagging back and forth to avoid the deepest shadows, where ambush might lie in wait. But Elrabin was an expert at following stealthily. He made himself a ghost, silent, able to anticipate when his quarry was going to glance back so that he could duck out of sight.

  He followed down numerous, twisting streets, darted along a section of recently burned buildings, where the stink of charred timbers still hung heavy on the air. The snow swirled around him, stinging his face and making his fur wet, but Elrabin grimly refused to give up.

  Finally, his quarry ducked down a flight of steps leading into a hole between two buildings. Pausing in the street, Elrabin watched as the hooded figure rapped in code on a door.

  It slid open, spilling out a narrow oblong of golden light and warmth before the hooded figure darted inside and the door slammed shut.

  Elrabin crept down the steps, finding them crumbly and unstable in the darkness. He waited an interval, feeling his hands and feet turning numb. The snow drifted across the steps behind him, and his breath steamed about his muzzle.

  Telling himself to find his courage, Elrabin stepped up to the door and duplicated the pattern of the knock the hooded figure had used.

  The door slid open, and a face in shadow peered out at him. Elrabin said nothing, but instead tried to dart inside.

  He made it halfway in before a hand gripped his arm like iron and tried to thrust him out.

  Swearing, Elrabin ducked his head and bit the wrist, tasting sour Viis blood. The door guard hissed and reached back to draw a weapon, but Elrabin ducked and tumbled himself across the floor to take cover behind a stack of kegs.

  “Hold on!” he cried as the other occupants in the room dropped what they were doing and rose to their feet. “I’m a friend, a friend! Remember me? Elrabin? I came to you before—”

  “Yeah, and we beat you for your trouble,” replied a hoarse, gravelly voice.

  Looking across the room, Elrabin got a swift impression of rough-hewn timbers supporting the low ceiling, a scattering of tables and chairs, a roaring fire in a crudely made hearth that gave out welcome heat and light, the smell of food on platters, and about fifty abiru and Rejects gathered before him with crudely made daggers and stolen side arms glinting in their hands.

  A low whine grew in his throat. Elrabin swallowed hard, then panted. Slowly, making no sudden moves, he rose from his hiding place behind the kegs, keeping his hands up and in plain sight.

  “I’m a friend,” he said, his voice shrill with fear. “I come to offer a deal.”

  The Reject who led the band was a tall, yellow-skinned Viis with webbed fingers and a rill that lay too flat on his neck. Named Sollusk, he was mean, unpredictable, and hostile.

  Shooting Elrabin a look of contempt, he drew his hand swiftly across his throat.


  A pair of Kelths streaked toward Elrabin. Yelping, he ducked to one side and ran toward Sollusk. The Reject drew his side arm and aimed it at Elrabin. Horrified, he skidded to a halt, and the Kelths grabbed him.

  “A deal! I offer you a deal!” Elrabin said desperately.

  Sollusk flicked out his tongue. “Your deals do not interest me, furred one. I care nothing about your friend.”

  “What about loot?” Elrabin asked, yelping as his arm was twisted behind him. “What about chemicals to sell on the black market, food, equipment—”

  “You have nothing,” Sollusk said in contempt. “You have none of these things.”

  “The Festival be coming, see?” Elrabin said hurriedly, watching the minute leap of interest in Sollusk’s eyes. “Everyone at Vess Vaas will be gone on leave. The lab will be empty. It’s gotta be a perfect time to break in, see?”

  “Lies,” Sollusk said. “Still trying to rescue your friend.”

  “Hey, this is a deal for me, and a deal for you,” Elrabin said. “Yeah, okay, I want to get her out. Something wrong with that? Why should you care, as long as you get to loot the whole place, see? No one there—”

  “Shields,” Sollusk said. “Locks. Security systems. Guards.”

  “The guards are abiru,” Elrabin said. “I walked out there last week and looked the place over. Not as secure as advertised. A snap to get in.”

  Laughter broke out among the thieves.

  “Like you know,” Sollusk said.

  Elrabin lost his temper. He glared at the Reject with his teeth bared. “Like why shouldn’t I know? Like I didn’t used to be a thief myself in the Vir ghetto? Like I didn’t live ten years without a registration implant, coming and going where I pleased, working the street? Like I didn’t run dust? Or operate gaming tables? Or smuggle? Or work scams on Viis marks up on Shrazhak Ohr? Like I ain’t been around, on this world and a dozen others? Where you been, besides small-time, one-town trouble? What do you know to make you laugh at me?”