“Good morning, Scorpion,” said Quintaro from where he and Sapphire sat in the back of the vehicle. “I assume you’re doing the driving. That is, unless your partner can …”
“I’ll drive,” answered Scorpio, tossing his bag into the very back. “Nice vehicle.”
“Actually, it belongs to a friend.”
And the friend has issued an arrest warrant against him for stealing it.
You’re surprised? thought Scorpio. He opened a door for Merlin, waited for his partner to find a comfortable position in a vehicle that was never meant for his species.
“Where’s the control?” he asked.
“This is the latest model,” answered Quintaro. “Put your thumb on the pad there … yes, that’s right … and now, as long as you keep your thumb there it’ll follow your orders, whether on land or water. That green button on the side of it will morph it into a boat or whatever else we need.”
Scorpio mentally ordered the vehicle to move forward slowly, down the crushed-stone path leading away from the tavern, and it was soon skimming over the muddy jungle trail.
“Got the hang of it?” asked Quintaro.
“Yeah,” answered Scorpio. “I’ve never driven anything as expensive as one of these VZ4’s, but I’ve piloted ships that responded to mental commands.”
“This is a goddamned vehicle, not a ship,” said Quintaro irritably. “Just remember that.” It was the first time his smooth façade had slipped, and Scorpio wondered why.
He’s scared to death.
Why?
We’re not going for a friendly ride in the park. Most people who go more than a few miles into this jungle don’t come out. That goes for my race, too.
Shit! We didn’t charge him enough.
I told you not to take it.
They’d gone a mile into the jungle when Scorpio saw something moving off to his left … something large. He stopped the vehicle and stared.
“What is it?” asked Quintaro nervously.
“I don’t know. Merlin, has Venus got something black and shaggy about the height of Tritonian lymix, only half again as long?”
It’s a herbivore.
Even herbivores can kill you when they’re that big. We’ll give him a wide berth.
“Well, what does he say?”
“He says yes,” lied Scorpio, partially to see the man’s reaction, but mostly to see if Sapphire would contradict him. He checked her reaction in a small dashboard screen, and saw that she was smiling in amusement.
“Well, as long as we’re going to be cooped up in this thing for a while, perhaps Sapphire will enlighten my partner and me about the history of the godstone.”
Why bother? thought Merlin. If she’s lying, and she probably will be, I won’t be able to tell.
There’s got to be a little truth to it. Maybe, like a famous detective of literature, we can construct the comprehensive whole from some of the disparate parts.
Oh, well, we’ve got nothing better to do.
“Miss Sapphire, ma’am?” said Scorpion.
“It is the greatest treasure on all of Venus,” she replied emotionlessly, as if by rote. “The man who finds it will become wealthy beyond all imagining.”
“What’s it made of?”
“I’m no meteorologist.”
“Neither am I,” said Scorpio. “But if I was spending all this money, and possibly risking my life, I’d sure as hell know what I think it’s made of.”
“Rare stones,” she replied. “Rarer than diamonds, than rubies, than emeralds. Stones that exist nowhere else in the universe.”
Possible? asked Scorpio.
I’m no gemologist. It seems unlikely, except …
Except?
Except why has she taken over Quintaro’s mind, and why is she risking her life by coming along?
“Are there any holographs of it?” asked Scorpio.
“Not to my knowledge,” replied Sapphire.
“Does it show up in any history books?”
“Of course. That’s how I know it exists.”
“Which ones?”
“I can’t remember.”
I don’t have to read her mind to know she’s lying, thought Scorpio.
I still can’t read it. All I get is a feeling of danger.
Let me know when it feels imminent.
You’ll know, replied Merlin with absolute certainty.
They were three days out from the tavern. The rain had diminished but not stopped, and Scorpio was inclined to think of his surroundings as a rainjungle, which in his mind was one step more impenetrable and uncomfortable than a rain forest. Finally they came to a river that didn’t have endless trees poking out of it, and he moved the vehicle onto it, where it floated smoothly and began picking up speed.
Overhead were a variety of avians—mostly bright red and yellow, a few blue, one large one that seemed to prey on the others a rich green, all of them seemingly impervious to the constant rain. There were myriads of water flowers of every imaginable shape and color, each reaching high and opening up its petals to the life-giving rain.
There were a few large beasts in the water. Most ignored them, and the vehicle, now a vessel, easily avoided the others. Scorpio found that he was actually relaxing and enjoying the trip when Sapphire leaned forward.
“Slow down,” she said.
“We’re not going that fast,” he replied.
“Nevertheless,” she said. “We’re going to leave the river and go back on land very soon now.”
Scorpio looked ahead. The trackless jungle bordering the river looked exactly the same as it had for the past fifty miles.
“Are you sure?” he said, frowning.
“Absolutely.”
“I can’t believe this area’s ever been mapped,” he continued. “What makes you think—?”
“Just do it!” she snapped.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her elbow Quintaro.
“Just do what I’m paying you to do and stop bitching,” he said.
“Yes, sir, right away, sir,” said Scorpio.
Subservience doesn’t become you, noted Merlin.
If you’ve got a quicker way to make the twenty grand we need to repair the ship, I’ll punch him out. Otherwise, we play the game.
“Here,” said Sapphire in another half mile.
Scorpio ordered the boat onto a sandy beach, paused until it had morphed back into a vehicle, and began driving it along a narrow animal trail, all the while wondering how Sapphire could know that this particular trail was the one she wanted, even if she’d had some treasure map and committed it to memory. The tides rose; they fell; and what was a trail today might have been an ocean bottom or an empty plain in antiquity, when the map would have been created, if indeed there was a map and a godstone at all.
They proceeded along the trail for three hours. Then, as the sun was starting to set, spreading a soft golden hue through the thick cloud layer, Scorpio brought the vehicle to a sudden stop.
“What is it?” demanded Quintaro, but Scorpio and Merlin, who had a better view of the trail, were out of the car and racing ahead on foot. They reached the object of their attention in seconds and knelt next to a blood-covered, thick-bearded man dressed in tattered rags.
Scorpio was about to pull him off the trail when he realized that there probably wouldn’t be another vehicle along for years, maybe decades, so he decided against moving the wounded man. Instead, he made a very crude pillow out of a stand of weeds and used it to prop up the man’s head, then opened what was left of the man’s shirt and began examining his body for wounds.
“Something with claws has ripped him up pretty badly,” he reported, as Quintaro ran up to them. “I’ve never seen paws on a herbivore, so it’s almost certainly a predator, and that means the claws were probably carrying half a dozen diseases picked up from victims.”
He’s very groggy, and perhaps a bit delusional, said Merlin silently. But something’s very strange here. I me
an, other than his being here at all.
What is?
He was ripped to shreds by a predator, but pull what’s left of his shirt off his left shoulder.
Scorpio did so. “Son of a bitch!” he muttered, as the shoulder displayed a fresh laser burn, clearly just a few hours old.
“Let me suggest that whatever ripped him up did so as he was escaping from whoever burned his shoulder,” said Scorpio.
“Makes sense,” said Quintaro. He frowned. “But who else would be in this godforsaken wilderness?”
“Who indeed?” said Sapphire, joining them. Scorpio couldn’t get over the notion that she sounded amused though her expression gave nothing away.
Scorpio examined the man’s body to see where to staunch the bleeding and realized that there were just too many flesh wounds to close them all, or even half of them, before he bled to death.
Merlin, go to my bag and find the strongest stimulant I’ve got in the med kit.
Why waste it? He’s as good as dead.
Let’s see if we can wake him up long enough for him to tell us who the hell did this to him. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to know what areas to avoid.
Merlin took off without sending another thought and was back a moment later with the entire kit.
Why the whole thing?
I don’t know one stimulant from another.
Scorpio opened the kit, pulled out the one he wanted, pulled out a lozenge, and pressed it against the inside of the man’s upper lip, holding it in place for the count of ten. By eight, the man had opened his pain-filled eyes.
“What … where?” he mumbled.
“You’re among friends,” said Scorpio. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
“Some kind of monster ran right through camp … killed about half of us … I got in the way when one of my team took a shot at it … I don’t remember anything after that …”
“What are you—your group—doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” asked Scorpio.
You’re not going to believe it, thought Merlin.
“Looking for …” The man’s voice trailed off. Scorpio thought he had perhaps twenty seconds of life left, but then he looked past Scorpio’s shoulder and tensed. “I’m sorry, Miss Sapphire, ma’am,” he said. “I did my best. I hope you find it.”
All the tension went out of his body then, his eyes rolled back into his head, and Scorpio knew that he was dead.
He laid the man’s body back, stood up, and turned to Sapphire. “What the hell was that all about?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“He knew you, even knew your name and what you’re searching for.”
“He didn’t mention the godstone,” replied Sapphire. “He might have seen me around Amber City, might have heard my name.”
“Bullshit!” snapped Scorpio.
“You’re not thinking of quitting?” demanded Quintaro.
“I’ve got to discuss it with my partner,” said Scorpio. “We’ve been lied to, and I don’t know how or why.”
“We’ll go stand by that tree while you talk,” said Quintaro, taking Sapphire’s arm and starting off through the mud.
“Don’t bother,” said Scorpio. “You can’t hear us wherever you are.”
Well? thought Scorpio.
He wasn’t delusional, replied Merlin. He knew her, knew her name, knew she’s after the godstone. What makes no sense is that, as I say, he wasn’t delusional or delirious.
This whole thing doesn’t make any sense, thought Scorpio.
That’s what’s disturbing.
So do we quit or not?
It’s up to you.
Scorpio considered his options. I say we stay.
The money means that much to you? I mean, we can make it elsewhere. We always manage.
Right now the money’s got nothing to do with it. This is a hell of a mystery, and I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life wondering about it.
Merlin shrugged, a gesture that sent ripples down both of his sides. Okay.
Scorpio turned to Sapphire. “We’ll continue—for now.”
If he expected to see anything—gratitude, arrogance, any change of expression at all—he was disappointed.
“Then let’s get back to the vehicle and get started before it gets bogged down in the mud,” said Quintaro. “If there’s another group hunting for the stone, we don’t want to lose any time.”
Acting or telling the truth? asked Scorpio.
I keep telling you—he’s the dupe, she’s the brain. He hasn’t got enough sense to act, except when it comes to lying about paying us.
“All right,” said Scorpio. “Let’s climb back in.”
“What about him?” asked Quintaro, indicating the dead man.
“There won’t be a bone left by morning,” answered Scorpio. “And if we bury him in this muck, they’ll just dig him up five minutes after we’re gone.”
They reached the vehicle and were soon heading deeper into the jungle, with Sapphire directing Scorpio to make minor course corrections every few miles.
When it was too dark to go any farther, Scorpio tried to decide—as he did every night—whether they’d be safer on land or on the nearby river.
You ask every night, and my answer’s always the same: There’s stuff that can cause you problems either way, replied Merlin when Scorpio queried him.
Scorpio considered his options and decided to remain on the land. If something was going to sneak up and attack, it didn’t make much difference whether it hid in the thick jungle or beneath the surface of the water, but he would feel better defending himself on dry—well, soggy—land.
He tried to find a place where at least they couldn’t be attacked from above, but there was no escaping the huge, towering trees that gave shelter to arboreal predators. Finally he found an area that looked minimally flatter and more protected from the rain, and announced that they were spending the night there.
“Can’t you find something with less bugs, at least?” complained Quintaro.
“Shut up,” said Sapphire, coldly and emotionlessly, and Quintaro immediately fell silent.
The four of them sat in total silence for half an hour. Scorpio was about to drift off to sleep when something nudged his arm. He thought it was Merlin, but when he opened his eyes he found that it was Sapphire.
“Yeah?” he said.
She placed a finger to her lips. “Softly. There’s movement out there. Intelligent movement.”
He stared at her. “You sure it’s not the group our dead friend belonged to—the one with a blue woman named Sapphire?”
She stared at him for a long moment, no emotion crossing her face. Finally she said, “There are seven distinct sentient races on Venus.”
“That we know about,” he answered, staring at her meaningfully.
“The movement out there is directed by intellect,” she continued. “They are not human, and they have never heard of the godstone.”
“Then I say live and let live,” said Scorpio.
“Do not be a fool,” she said. “I would not awaken and warn you if there was no danger. They are creatures that are endemic to the jungle, and they prey on strangers.”
“They must be starving,” said Scorpio, unimpressed. “Nobody wanders through here without a purpose. That can’t afford them much sustenance.”
“They plan to eat you, you and Quintaro—but only after they rob us first.”
“But not you?”
She stared at him for a long moment. “I was mistaken,” she said.
“About what?”
“You are a fool.”
She got up and walked back to where she had been sitting.
Merlin, were you listening?
Well, observing, anyway.
Are these critters really out there, and are they Intelligent?
They’re out there. They’re sentient; I would question “intelligent.”
They plan to attack?
> That’s a given.
How did she know?
We’ll worry about that later. Tell Quintaro not to fire his weapon when the fighting starts. He might hit me in the dark.
You need some help?
If I do, I’ll let you know.
Scorpio looked around and saw that Merlin had already departed in what he assumed was the direction of what he now thought of as the enemy. He decided that they needed a term for them—not for their race, of which he was still ignorant—but for their occupation, because given his surroundings “highwayman” seemed ridiculous. There wasn’t a highway within a thousand miles, and except for himself and Quintaro, there weren’t any men within miles.
He considered giving Sapphire a reassuring smile, decided she didn’t need one, and sat perfectly still, trying to pick up any unusual sounds through the driving rain. Nothing happened for almost ten minutes. Then the calm was shattered by a hideous scream. A minute later came another. The area two miles to the east was briefly illuminated by weapons fire, then another scream came to his ears.
Three dead, two running away as fast as they can.
Good! thought Scorpio. What race were they?
Tabolla. They just crossed over the barrier to sentience about two millennia ago. They’re the most primitive of our sentient races.
Okay. Bring back their weapons if they’re any better than ours—
They aren’t.
And I’ll see you in a few minutes.
I’ll be back in the morning. I haven’t eaten in two days.
Did you have to say that? thought Scorpio disgustedly.
Well, you did ask.
Scorpio shut his eyes for a moment, trying to rid himself of the mental image of Merlin eating his enemies—the fact that they were raw didn’t help—and then reopened them and found himself staring at Sapphire, who stared back, unblinking.
“It’s over,” he said. “But you know that, don’t you?”
She offered no answer, and her expression never changed.
“Who the hell are you?” he continued after a moment.
Still no answer.
“Or perhaps I should ask: what are you?”
“Leave her alone,” said Quintaro.
“To quote your blue friend, shut up,” said Scorpio.
Old Venus Page 54
