Mid-Flinx (23 page)

“Soon all will be asleep.”

“Surely not all?” commented Tuuvatem.

The big furcot stretched, muscles rippling beneath twin sets of shoulders. “Perhaps they are not completely stupid and will leave some awake to look out for night dangers. It will not matter.”

Moomadeem’s eyes flashed in the pale light. “How do you want to do the thing?”

Saalahan’s triocular gaze shifted from one cub to the other. “You are both young. Have you no unsureness about this?”

“Why should we?” A confident, relaxed Moomadeem shook himself, sending droplets flying. “They are not-persons.”

“They have thoughts.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Tuuvatem was licking a front paw and using it to groom her face. “We will do what we must to keep our persons safe.”

“That is fine for Teal, and Dwell, and Kiss, but what about the skyperson Flinx?” Saalahan wondered. “He is not our responsibility. He has no furcot.”

“No furcot to help or comfort him.” Tuuvatem’s paw paused in the middle of her face. “It’s very sad.”

“We have to help him, too.”

Saalahan looked surprised. “I thought you didn’t like him, Moomadeem.”

The younger furcot blinked at the rain. “At first I didn’t, because I wasn’t sure he was a person. Then I decided he was a person, but just stupid. When I found out he was a skyperson I got mad, because I know the stories of what happened the last time the skypersons came. Since then he has learned much, and has helped our own persons. Whoever helps my person is my friend.”

Saalahan smiled knowingly. “Flinx is not the only one who has learned much these past several days. Learning is a good thing, for furcots as well as persons.”

Moomadeem looked away, embarrassed. “I didn’t say I learned anything. I just said that we ought to help him as well.”

“So we will.” The big furcot’s brow furrowed above the three eyes. “It is the—ethical thing to do.”

“How sorrowful to travel through life without a furcot of one’s own.” Tuuvatem was still mourning Flinx’s status. “I can’t imagine how awful it would be if Kiss were to disappear.”

“I feel the same way about Dwell, but I don’t think about it much.” Moomadeem scratched under its chin with a claw capable of shredding metal.

“I once heard the shaman Ponder speak about this matter,” Saalahan informed them. “He said that humans are mostly active, while furcots tend to be primarily reactive.”

Moomadeem snorted. “Then let’s do some reacting! I’m bored just sitting here in the rain.”

“Patience.” Making as little noise as possible, the massive adult let its great bulk slump down into the cushioning boughs and leaves. The rain washed over it, and the two smaller masses crouched close by, the three motionless humps looking in the darkness like green galls growing directly from the surface of the branch.

It was a semblance that went deeper than it looked.

The half of Tatrasaseep QQWRTL that was asleep was enjoying life far more than the half of him that was awake. Consigned to the watch for another hour or so, he had been awakened by his predecessor and posted near the back of the encampment. Tepid rain streamed off the hood of his camouflage suit, spilled off his arms, waterfalled from his knees and trickled down his tail. No matter how he arranged his limbs, no matter how carefully he sat or adjusted the suit’s hood, a certain amount still succeeded in working its way inside to dampen both his underattire and his spirits.

Irritated and tired, he wiped rainwater from his muzzle. Perhaps if he bent over more—but then he wouldn’t be able to watch the accursed forest for signs of approaching danger. What danger? He mumbled to himself. Virtually nothing was afoot in the saturated landscape. Or a-wing or afloat, he added silently. Any creature that could manage it had sensibly gone to cover, unlike himself and his colleagues, who were reduced to squatting forlornly on the narrow, exposed branch. Strategically he supposed it made sense, but from a practical standpoint it was pure hell.

His thoughts drifted to his barracks bed on the
Keralkee
, lined with fine yellow sand and heated to a nice soothing dryness. He’d had enough of humidity to last him a lifetime. There would be tales aplenty to brag upon when they returned to the ship with the peculiar human in tow. For the life of him, Tatrasaseep couldn’t see what was so important about the young mammal or his vessel, much less why a Lord of the AAnn would take a personal interest in the matter. If it had been up to him, the trooper would have shot all the humans on sight and been done with it.

Less than an hour to go now. Then he would turn his post over to Creskescanvi and flatten himself comfortably on the branch until morning. Time enough for his associates to partake of this suffering.

At the far end of the branch he knew Masmarulial was keeping watch. In between, the rest of the expedition slept. A few days march and with luck all would arrive safely back at the dangerous landing site. No more watches then. Only blissful dryness and the promise of promotion.

Resting his chest on his knees, he shifted the pulse rifle to a more comfortable position. His tail twitched restlessly, flicking water from side to side. With little light to see by and only the steady drumming of the rain for company, time passed with agonizing slowness.

Fortunately there was little wind in the depths of the forest and the rain fell straight down. Tiny luminous shapes slithered and crawled and flitted through the sodden night. Occasionally one ate its neighbor.

Leaning slightly forward enabled him to peer into the dark depths, where other naturally refulgent shapes swam like zooplankton in a celestial sea. Stealthy silhouettes plucked the unwary from the damp air or dropped down on them from above. A few specially adapted life forms were active, even at the height of the nightly deluge.

Something scratched on the branch behind him. Every sense suddenly alert, he jerked around and aimed his rifle in the same motion.

Something was moving back in the leaves; a lumpish outline half his size. A soft mewling sound came from it, as if it were in pain. As he stared, it rolled over and stopped moving.

It lay like that for some time, utterly motionless. Doing his best to ignore it, Tatrasaseep found that after a while his curiosity, not to mention prudence, dictated that he investigate a little closer. After a glance in the direction of the slumbering encampment, he ventured a soft hiss as he rose.

Keeping the rifle pointed toward the lump at all times and two fingers on the triggers, he approached cautiously. Once he was careful to step around, not over, a clump of what appeared to be harmless grass growing from a bump in the wood. The lesson of the hapless Chorsevasin had not been lost on his fellow soldiers. The grassy blades were spotted with tiny black bumps that for all Tatrasaseep knew were as likely to contain a virulent poison as easily as harmless pollen. One could not be certain of anything on this hell-world, except that if something looked harmless, it probably wasn’t.

He kept that thought in mind as he neared the immobile lump. It lay amidst a cluster of epiphytes bright with tiny white flowers whose petals had closed for the night. Black flowers blossoming from the same plants stood open to the rain. It wasn’t the first time they had encountered a plant that boasted two distinctly different types of flower, one blooming diurnally and its counterpart nocturnally. In this way the plant maximized its opportunities for pollination. In the face of eternal and relentless competition, individual growths on this world had evolved unique methods of survival.

The lump quivered slightly and the trooper froze. A steady stream of dark liquid was trickling from an ugly lesion on its side. Whatever else it was, it was apparent that the creature was either sick or badly wounded. That would explain why its movements had been blatant and clumsy when every other life form traveling about at night was at pains to move quietly and with stealth.

Taking a wary step forward, the trooper was able to locate the head. The three eyes were closed and more liquid flowed from the half-open mouth. The animal was of a type they had not encountered before.

Should he awaken Field Officer Nesorey, kick this diseased mass over the side, or just ignore it and return to his post? He leaned toward nudging it into the depths as the most conclusive of the three possibilities. A single shove should do it. A quick look around revealed no movement nearby. Taking no chances, he kept the rifle aimed at the creature’s skull as he took another step forward. He was prepared and ready to deal with whatever surprises even a near-corpse might proffer.

What he was not prepared for was a surprise from another source entirely.

Dangling unseen from the underside of a branch ten meters directly overhead, Saalahan simultaneously released all six sets of claws. The AAnn never saw the half-ton mass that landed on his head, snapping his spine in several places. The soldier made not a sound, unless one counted the subsequent inconsequential snapping of numerous bones.

Sliding from lax fingers, the pulse rifle bounced once and vanished over the side of the branch, its triggers unactivated, its destructive power still leashed. As a third figure came ambling out of the dense vegetation that lay in the direction of the trunk, the motionless form abed in the black-flowering epiphytes rolled to its feet.

Moomadeem shook sharply, shaking pools of water from green fur. Then a paw reached back to flick the blood-sucking toet from its temporary home atop a rib. Settled onto a host, the parasite looked very much like an open wound. It was a sloppy drinker, spilling as much blood as it ingested. Carefully Moomadeem spat a second one from where it had been clinging to the inside of the furcot’s upper jaw.

“Nasty,” it muttered with distaste. “Are you all right, Saalahan?”

The big furcot nodded as it climbed off the smashed pulp that had moments earlier been a member of the Empire’s elite expeditionary forces. “Not a bad drop. You?”

“I was wondering what was keeping you.”

Saalahan indicated the engorged toets that were creeping slowly back down the branch in search of shelter. “Nothing to worry about. They would have stopped sucking soon.”

“It wasn’t that. The one in my mouth tasted bad and I wanted to get rid of it.” Already the two wounds were healing over, a familiar well-known by-product of the toets’ anti-agglutination saliva. No successful parasite desires a useful host to perish from infection. Corpses make poor fonts of future nutrients.

As Tuuvatem joined them, the three furcots studied the irregular outlines of the encampment. Saalahan absently used its back pair of legs to kick the remains of the dead soldier off the branch. The rain muffled the noise as it bounced down through the hylaea below, breaking branches and snapping vines.

“What next?” Tuuvatem whispered interestedly.

“They’re sleeping.” Moomadeem dug its front claws into the wood underfoot. “Let’s charge and knock them all off!”

“No.” Saalahan did not move. It was studying, observing, analyzing. Or perhaps it was just instinct. “Not all of them may be asleep. Their snufflers shoot thunder, and we are not as quick as thunder. Come.”

They melted back into the trees as silently as they had come.

Ceijihagrast BHRYT was furious as he blinked at his chronometer. He was Tatrasaseep’s follow-up on watch, and it was the other soldier’s responsibility to wake his designated replacement. What was keeping him? Already Ceijihagrast had overslept his posting by an unforgivable margin.

Angrily he fumbled with his rifle. Let Tatrasaseep try to claim compensation for unscheduled watch time! It wouldn’t play. Worse still for him if he’d fallen asleep on duty. Field Officer Nesorey would have the scales off his nostrils.

Rifle armed and ready, he picked his way past his sleeping comrades as he strode down the branch. He hadn’t gone far before he paused and turned a slow circle. Tatrasaseep should be standing or sitting on this spot, just in front of the little grassy clump that protruded from a woody knot. There was no sign of him.

Either the fool had sneaked back into camp and gone to sleep in violation of every conceivable directive, or more likely, he had simply mispositioned himself. Difficult even in the rain to overlook the grassy knot, but not impossible.

Ceijihagrast walked on past the patch of quasi-grass. The encampment was well behind him now. Where was the lazy
sisstinp
? Had the clumsy idiot gone for a walk to loosen his muscles, only to slip and tumble soundlessly to a green grave? Unlikely. Tatrasaseep would never make underofficer, but he was physically adept.

Leaning slightly to his left, the trooper tried to see into the sodden reaches below the branch. If Tatrasaseep
had
fallen, he might be lying not far below, concealed from view by overarching leaves and blossoms. Even now he might be trying weakly to call for help, his portable beam broken or out of reach, his tail thrashing feebly beneath him.

If a search was to be mounted, assistance was in order. Too easy to become disoriented and lost in the dense vegetation, too likely to meet up with something lethal in the dark.

He called out, not too emphatically lest he wake the Lord Caavax. The thought that his comrade might have been attacked never crossed his mind, knowing for certain as he did that in that event any competent AAnn soldier would have been able to squeeze off at least a burst or two from his weapon which would have awakened the entire camp.

No, either he was sleeping safely back in the encampment, in which case Ceijihagrast would be tempted to shoot him himself, or else he had met with an accident. Satisfied that he had considered every possibility, the trooper pivoted to return to camp.

And promptly encountered an accident, waiting to happen.

Something immense and dark had risen behind him, blocking not only his path but his view. Standing on hind legs, Saalahan scowled unblinkingly down at the soldier. Remnant moonlight outlined razor-sharp tusks.

Ceijihagrast’s slitted pupils dilated sharply as he brought the pulse rifle up. He wasn’t nearly quick enough. Four massive paws came together, catching the soldier’s skull between them and crushing it like an egg. Messily decapitated, the body crumpled to the ground.