Reunion (19 page)

Qiscep’s teeth clacked audibly despite a conscious effort on his part to forestall the reflexive reaction. “Actually, none, Commander. But I have read about them, and ssseen many insstructional visualss. They are bipedss, like uss, but tailless, ssoft-sskinned, and without sscales, physsically sslightly sstronger but sslower. They have average brain capacitiess of . . .”

“I too have sstudied them.” Voocim cut off Qiscep’s recitation of his decidedly minor accomplishments in the field of human study to tap the flowcopy with the tip of her tail. “But I alsso have never encountered one in the flessh. I am told by thosse in a possition to know that they are quite tassty.”

This was an interesting zone of speculation into which Qiscep had never delved. “Sso if thiss iss an infiltrating human, we could perhapss eat it after concluding the formal interrogation?”

Voocim softly hissed second-degree disappointment. “Do you run your head againsst a wall to conssolidate your thoughtss? To capture and identify a human here, well insside Empire boundariess, would be a most worthy and notable achievement. Much honor would accrue to the liness involved. Furthermore, appropriate invesstigation of ssuch an important prissoner would not be carried out here, with the limited facilitiess we have at our disspossal, but on a fully developed world of the Empire, or at the very leasst aboard a capital vessel. Modern Imperials no longer think with their belliess, trooper!” For emphasis she tapped the back of her tattooed skull with the tip of her tail.

An abashed Qiscep conceded the logic of this. “I assk pardon for my foolissh reaction, Commander.”

Settling herself into the dominion lounge, Voocim gestured to indicate that the soldier’s gaffe was of no import. “At leasst you recognize one when you have committed it. I am afraid that many of your fellow trooperss would not ssee the inherent reassoning as quickly. One musst digesst information before consuming it.” Almost absently she added, “For bringing thiss matter promptly to my attention when you could eassily have ignored it, I am promoting you one half-level in rank, change in sstatuss to be effective immediately.”

Dizzy with delight and unexpected astonishment, Qiscep could think of nothing to say. Unbeknownst to him, that was exactly the right reaction. He had delivered the message in person hoping that in doing so he was not making a fool of himself. Now, instead of censure, he found himself advanced in rank. While he stood silently trying to control the twitching of his tail, Voocim called up the image of Officer Dysseen.

“Commander?” The flawless three-dimensional image responded swiftly. Qiscep tried not to snicker. He didn’t much like Dysseen, and neither did his fellow troopers. The commander had roused the dozing officer from a nap, causing him to fall all over himself in his haste to both snap awake and present himself as a picture of readiness. To Qiscep’s delight, the unpopular officer failed in both efforts.

Making no allowance for her subordinate’s conspicuous drowsiness, Voocim snapped out orders. “Get a ssquad together. Light armss only. Get the coordinatess of that outposst camp where that mated pair of ssenior xenologisstss hass been working.” She gestured in Qiscep’s direction. “Thiss trooper can help you and explain what it iss you are to do there. Take him along as part of your complement.”

Qiscep’s spirits soared. If the improbable message was accurate as well as truthful and, unlikely as it seemed, the elderly researchers actually had come across a human spy, participating in its apprehension might mean yet another opportunity for promotion. He wondered who else would be on the squad with him. Regardless, they would have no idea of the significance of their afternoon flight. Should he enlighten them fully, or keep the most favored knowledge to himself? For any normal, lineage-respecting, suitably self-aggrandizing AAnn the answer was simple. Unless someone asked him a direct question, he would refrain from edifying his fellow troopers. Under such circumstances even Officer Dysseen might be persuaded to take note of recently promoted trooper Qiscep’s long-overlooked abilities.

Commander Voocim took no further notice of him at all, however, until he hesitantly tapped his tail against the floor.

“
Wsssur?
You sstill here?” She gestured fifth-degree dismissal. “Go on; get out. Find Officer Dysseen. Coil him for me.”

He was in, Qiscep knew. Like any sensible AAnn seeking advancement, Voocim knew that Dysseen, while never shirking his duty or jeopardizing his assignment, would also take every opportunity to appropriate any small triumphs for himself. Therefore Voocim needed a subordinate she could trust to keep watch on Dysseen’s activities. Certainly Dysseen had someone watching Commander Voocim as well. With everyone constantly observing everyone else, it made for a very tight and flexible command structure in time of combat.

“I sshould not have to tell him,” she was saying as Qiscep prepared to depart, “but remind Dysseen that we want thiss potential infiltrator alive. Dead alienss make poor ssources of information.”

Unable to hide his excitement—something to break the deadly dull routine of everyday drudgery, at last!—Qiscep acknowledged the orders and genuflected a suitable exit.

Voocim was left with the synthetically introduced whisper of distant wind blowing lightly over the tops of pristine dunes, and with her own churning thoughts.

Was she doing the right thing? The dismissed trooper had plainly been understandably nervous about bringing her the flow of the recognizably eccentric communication. Was she risking too much in treating it as authentic? What if it was some kind of test?

The existence of a spy, and a human spy at that, on an AAnn world would be more than significant: It would be newsworthy. She had generously upranked the soldier because she expected this incident to serve as her own stepping-stone to promotion. Promotion all the way off this out-of-the-way, isolated, uninspiring world. Such practical matters aside, however, she was genuinely anxious to learn what a solitary mammal was doing on Pyrassis, violating an extensive catalog of Empire-Commonwealth treaties while simultaneously shitting on protocol. Her protocol.

A little righteous anger was agreeably refreshing. Much relaxed, she settled back to await the first word from Dysseen. Contrary to what she had told the trooper, they could at least carry out preliminary interrogation here at the base. They would simply have to be careful not to be clumsy in their efforts, thereby damaging the valuable property.

She wished she could have gone herself, to participate in the initial examination of whatever it was the xenologists were so adamant in reporting. But as base commander she could not do so. If anything untoward were to happen in her absence, the government’s understanding of her actions would be exceeded only by its wrath.

So she remained behind when the two atmosphere planes emerged from their sand-colored underground haven to open their doors to the well-armed troopers who came pouring out of a natural tunnel in the side of the mountain. Urged along by their subofficers, they boarded the two waiting, whining craft with traditional Imperial speed and efficiency. Clearly, everyone at the outpost had been energized by the surprising change in routine. How much of a change they could not imagine.

Neither could Voocim, but she was hopeful.

Officer Dysseen was less enthusiastic about the possibilities. After being filled in on the details of the mission by the excessively eager Trooper Second Qiscep, he was more convinced than ever that he was embarking on nothing more than an elaborate exercise, Qiscep’s energetic protestations to the contrary. He did not much like the newly promoted soldier, who strode about the interior of the transport proclaiming his perspicacity in recognizing the importance of the message he had personally, personally mind you, delivered to the commander. Dysseen didn’t much like Commander Voocim either, but such was the fate of those condemned to service on isolated outposts of the Empire like Pyrassis. Since his posting he had attempted to make the best of an unpleasant situation. He would continue to do so; not out of a sense of duty or desire, but because until his allotted term was up he had no other choice.

The officer settled back in his seat. Even at the speeds of which the subatmospheric flyers were capable, it was a time-consuming journey to the place where the two senior xenologists had their camp. It would take most of the day to get there, and he had no intention of spending it listening to the theories endlessly being propounded by the animated Qiscep. Feigning sleep would allow him to shut the trooper out. The four subofficers could handle any unforeseen problems.

A spy indeed! And a human at that. True, Pyrassis was rich in interesting minerals, but nothing of sufficiently overriding value to tempt the Commonwealth into risking a serious diplomatic incident. A thought occurred to him: What if the human was mentally unbalanced? It seemed incredible that it could be operating alone. There must be others as well, even if the researchers had not encountered them. Possible freelancers of a type unique to humankind, seeking illegal riches. He smiled inwardly. If that was the case, and this was not a test or exercise, then there might be something to be gained from it after all. But he continued to discount the report, and would believe otherwise only when he set eyes on a mammal or two in person.

The electric splash of color that was the surface of Pyrassis rushed past beneath the two speeding transports, a riot of copper-based minerals and their associated chemical relations. There seemed little to interest humans, Dysseen mused. But then, humans were known to not always act in a sensible manner. It was a trait for which the higher races, like the AAnn, had learned to both admire and pity them.

Pity any he encountered, the officer resolved. If he was lucky and handled this correctly, that taciturn old egg-sitter Voocim might even let him participate in the interrogation. That, at least, would be diverting. He had never seen a human interrogated. In point of fact, like Qiscep and everyone else on the two transports, he had never seen a human in person. As he recalled from his training, they tended to bleed easily.

He hissed softly and tried to snug deeper into the stiff, unyielding seat. There were worse postings than Pyrassis, especially for an unmated male. Though he disliked Voocim, he supposed she was really no worse than any other midrange officer forced to accept such a remote command. Were their positions reversed he supposed he might be irritable much of the time himself. Opportunities for advancement, much less a chance at achieving the nobility, were nonexistent in a place like this. The line of thinking displeased him, and he closed it down.

Better to look forward to capturing rogue humans and putting questions to them. It might not result in advancement, but it would provide a distraction, an entertainment, some relief from the boredom of patrolling a place that needed no safeguarding.

Maybe, he thought, the human and any companions that might be traveling with it would resist capture. That would mean a fight. He felt his blood race. Something to look forward to indeed! He would just have to be careful not to kill the intruders. If he did not bring at least one back for questioning, Voocim would consign his gonads to the kitchen. He would have to remember to warn the members of his squad to shoot to cripple, not to kill.

A check of his personal chronometer revealed that they still had a number of timeparts to go before they arrived at the scientists’ camp. Hearing the garrulous Qiscep advancing in his direction, he quickly settled his crossed arms behind his knees, lowered his head forward until it was resting on them, and resolutely closed his eyes.

Chapter 13

If the two AAnn were concerned about the young human hovering over them, weapon in hand, they did not show it. Immediately after the vast, ragged acreage of the transmitter had released its wholly unexpected burst of energy, they had hurriedly climbed down from the observation lookout and descended to their living quarters and work area. Flinx had followed closely, keeping a careful eye on everything they touched, but had otherwise not interfered with their enthusiastic activity. He was as curious to know what had happened as they were.

They chattered so actively to one another, their swiftly moving hands and arms accentuating and adding to their conversation, that he had a hard time following what they were saying. Being adept only at conversational AAnn, there were a lot of scientific terms he didn’t understand. He tried to get some sense of the debate by placing the blank spaces in the context of words and gestures that he did recognize.

To all intents and purposes, as far as the two scientists were concerned, he had ceased to exist. Their interest was now devoted solely and exclusively to analyzing and determining the nature of the emission. Had it been a random occurrence, or had it been prompted by the specific set of stimulations supplied by the weapon? And if the latter, could these be traced and a representative sequencing derived? If it was not random, then what had sparked the discharge? Was it purely electromagnetic in nature, or did it embody other properties? Was it precisely focused, or indifferently dispersed?

Unable to stand the uncertainty, he prodded the inspired pair for information. He had to do it twice before they heeded his presence.

“It iss mosst extraordinary.” The female’s vertical pupils flicked past him before settling on a set of readouts mounted on the wall nearby. “Who would have thought to try and animate a device by sshooting at it?”

“It always gets my attention,” Flinx informed her. “What have you found out?” If required, he would threaten them with the weapon to get an answer. It was not necessary. Their excitement was too great to withhold, even from a transgressing human.

“Our insstrumentss recorded the outbursst in itss entirety.” The male spoke without looking up from the instrumentation he was reviewing. “It originated from far below uss, where the heart of thiss device musst be located. Though of short duration, it wass quite powerful.”

Flinx deliberated. “Subspace communicator?”

“The potential may be there. We do not know.” The female kept shifting her attention between instruments and readouts, her manicured claws flicking nimbly across controls and contact points. “Thiss particular effusion was not directed outssysstem, but within. The apparent target iss as unexpected as wass the outbursst itsself.”

Flinx moved a little closer so that he was almost standing between them. Locating the landing party from the
Crotase
was still his priority. Nothing could distract him from that. But his boundless curiosity would not let him leave. “What target?”

“As near as we can tell,” the male informed him excitedly, “the emission wass directed to a point ssituated on the outsskirts of thiss ssysstem.”

“There iss, of coursse, nothing there,” the female added. “Although thiss ssector of the Empire iss little explored.” Shifting her attention, she called forth a hovering, scaled-down image of the Pyrassisian system. Flinx saw ten worlds, ranging from one seared and scarred that orbited far too close to its parent sun, to a succession of gas giants situated farther out, and several stony-metal spheres of which Pyrassis prime was one. There was also the usual assortment of moons, subplanetary orbital objects, and a pair of dense, well-defined asteroid belts.

“If there’s nothing there . . .” he began, only to be interrupted by the excited male.

“
Jssacch!
That iss the interessting quesstion, iss it not? Ssee thiss here?” With a clawed hand he indicated a small, rapidly oscillating graphic set high up on his instrumentation panel. “What do you think thiss ssignifiess?”

Leaning forward, Flinx tried to interpret the meaning of the vacillating abstract. “Some kind of fluctuating energy source?”

“No,” the AAnn replied, “it meanss that you are not paying closse enough attention.” Whereupon both he and his mate fell upon the instrument-gazing human from opposite sides.

Locked together in struggle, all three of them tumbled to the floor. Secondary devices went flying as Flinx fought to escape their grasp. The female had both hands on his right wrist, preventing him from aiming the pistol, while her mate was trying to put the AAnn equivalent of a hammerlock on Flinx’s upper arms. An agitated Pip hovered anxiously above them, waiting for a clear line of sight into the skirmishing troika so that she could intervene. She would not do so unless she could be certain of not striking her companion.

For his part, despite an intense desire to avoid recapture, neither did the struggling Flinx want to have to kill the two senior researchers. His calculated benevolence was compromised by the fact that where
his
health was concerned, the two AAnn had no such compunctions. As he fought to escape their grasp, he found himself wondering why they did not bite him. Classic carnivores, the AAnn were well equipped with mouthfuls of sharp teeth. No grinding molars for them. He would have been appalled to learn that they refrained from doing so for fear of ingesting one of the poisons with which unclean humans were reputed to be saturated. Unbeknownst to him, he was spared some serious gnawing thanks to an unpleasant rumor. Having never encountered a human in person, and with their specialties focused elsewhere, the two desperate AAnn were taking no chances.

Consisting of one human and two AAnn, the ball of thrashing limbs spilled ungracefully across the floor. The indefatigable Pip tracked their every move. Nennasu would not relax her death grip on his wrist, and Flinx was having a harder and harder time keeping Tenukac from gaining control of his other arm. He concentrated as much as he could given the seriousness of the situation, trying to focus his feelings into a narrow, undiluted spike of suggestion. Pip kept darting in and out, searching for a clear line of fire, preparing as always to aim for the eyes.

Flinx felt he could grapple with their interlaced emotional states no more. He was tiring. Through their sheer weight if nothing else, the two AAnn were wearing him down. They would regain control of the weapon and, if they did not shoot him outright, reimprison him, doubtless in such a way that Pip could not free him as she had previously. He was twisting to try and make eye contact with the minidrag when he heard a familiar, subdued noise. He waited for the inevitable howl of agonized pain.

Instead, it was more like a hissing yelp. Even as he continued to fight, Flinx smiled to himself. Pip had divined what he wanted: to inhibit his assailants, to distract them, but not to kill. And that was what she had done.

She had spit little more than a drop, but even this minimal dab of caustic venom on the female’s exposed thigh was enough to force the AAnn to release her double grip on the human’s wrists in favor of flailing frantically at her leg. A tiny trail of vapor was rising from the gleaming scales. A second expectorated droplet struck the male on his bare shoulder. He immediately let go of Flinx and began rubbing wildly at the burning exterior of his scaly epidermis. The minidrag stood off and watched, hovering edgily near the ceiling, ready to deliver a more potent strike should it prove necessary.

It didn’t. Both AAnn were now effectively indisposed. Climbing to his feet, Flinx ignored them as he searched for something with which to keep both out of his way. He found it in the form of a large perforated storage container equipped with a time seal. Herding both hissing, hurting, complaining scientists inside, he closed the lid and set the timer for its maximum number of fractional timeparts—approximately one day. They could handle being hungry for that long, and AAnn could go without water for several days. It would give them time to reflect on their perfidy.

“I save your lives from that worm thing, and this is how you show gratitude!”

“We are not bound to sshow gratitude to that which iss not AAnn.” Peering out at Flinx through several of the perforations, the frazzled female looked as if she wanted to split him from orifice to orifice. “Esspecially uninvited repressentativess of the Commonwealth!”

“I am nobody’s representative,” he retorted, leaving them to ponder exactly what he meant by that. Let them continue to wonder if he was operating alone, or if others awaited his imminent return. “You’ll be all right in there until the timer lets you out.” He smiled thinly. “You can spend the time contemplating the wonder of your discovery. But before that, you need to tell me
exactly
where the outburst from the transmitter was directed. To satisfy my curiosity.” He managed an appropriate gesture that was not too badly mishandled. “You owe me that much for saving your lives, and for continuing to spare them.”

“We owe you nothing. Why sshould we tell you anything?” Tenukac hissed and gestured defiance.

Flinx raised the muzzle of the small weapon. “Because if you don’t, I’ll shoot one of you.”

“Which one?” the male inquired. A human would have been horrified by Tenukac’s response, but neither of the researchers blanched at the comment. It was a perfectly natural AAnn response.

“Both of you. A little at a time.” He would never do any such thing, Flinx knew, but since they seemed ready to believe the worst of any human, he saw no reason to dissuade them from that opinion. Not while it might prove useful. In any event, he was acting exactly as an AAnn operative would have if placed in the same situation.

Having run through the formalities of capture, threat, and acquiescence, the female gestured first-degree assent underscored by third-degree reluctance. “The outermosst four planetss of thiss ssysstem are all gass giantss with atmosspheress of varying compossition and depth. The farthesst from the local ssun boasstss a ssingle moon, but it iss not a gass giant. It belongss to a class of sstellar objectss known as methane dwarvess. Bigger than a gass giant, but smaller than a normal brown dwarf. Interestingly, the attendant moon appearss to have a ssimilar atmossphere.”

“That’s interesting.” Flinx’s interest in astronomy reflected practical as well as aesthetic interests. “The average satellite would be much too small to retain that kind of gaseous amalgam.”

“It could be drawn directly from the upper atmospheric reachess of the planet itsself. The moon orbitss exceedingly closse to the parent world. Inssofar as we are able to tell, the brief emission wass directed toward that moon.”

“Any response?” The question was asked half in jest. Flinx knew he ought to be leaving, fast, but his insatiable curiosity demanded he take with him just one more crust of fact.

Teeth clacked amusedly. “From a gasseous moon orbiting an uninhabitable methane dwarf? You are imaginative, human.”

“Alsso ignorant,” the female added for good measure.

“I will assume that constitutes a ‘no’ in response to my query.” The matter of the transmitter outburst settled to his satisfaction, he turned away from the container and began a search of his surroundings with an eye toward equipping himself for further travel.

The AAnn skinsuit he found hung in loose folds in several places and clung too tightly in others, but was still a considerable improvement over the rags that he had been wearing. The hole in the lower rear was equipped with a reflexive rictus that automatically tried to snap tight against the base of the tail he did not have. Instead, it continued closing until it was completely sealed, which was just what he was hoping it would do. There were no sunguards, the AAnn having no need of them. They could see without squinting or difficulty in the most intense sunlight. Other than that one omission, however, he felt more protected from the elements than he had in days. There was no cooling unit, of course, but at least the skinsuit would keep the sun’s stinging rays from contact with his vulnerable flesh.

He had better luck adapting an AAnn field pack to his human frame, filling it with containers of water and dried reptiloid rations. In the absence of evaporated fruits and vegetables, he would have to survive on an all-meat diet for a little while longer. Taking his time, he also retrieved both of the scientists’ hand weapons.

Thus equipped, he then demanded the activation code for the two-person skimmer parked outside.

“Thief,” the male declared from within his perforated prison.

“Dirty mammal!” the female spat, then reluctantly recited the code.

Turning, he eyed them calmly. “You’re both welcome. I wish you luck with your future research. It looks really interesting, but I’m actually searching for revelation of another kind.” With a wave, he bade them farewell and started up the ramp that led out of the subterranean station. Their curses followed him until he was up top and out of earshot.

The weight of fresh supplies was reassuring against his back, while the sturdy skinsuit kept the ill-fitting pack from rubbing against his flesh. Once inside the skimmer, he unloaded them both. After spending several minutes deep in study, he tentatively entered the code the female had provided. The skimmer’s engine stuttered to life, and the compact craft rose five meters off the ground. Though he experimented with the controls, he could not induce it to rise any higher. Still, it would clear the majority of obstacles in his path. While he could not travel in a perfectly straight line, neither would he have to deviate too often from his intended course.

Pausing near the base of the observation platform from which they had beheld the discharge of energy from the alien transmitter, he considered how best to proceed. Nothing for it but to assume that the
Crotase
encampment was still situated at the original coordinates. After his less-than-sociable encounter with the pair of AAnn scientists, he would be delighted to see fellow humans again: even potentially hostile ones, even from a distance. Settling on a bearing, he eased the accelerator equivalent forward. The skimmer headed off in a southeasterly direction, a reinvigorated Pip resting on the deck near his feet.