Ancestor's World (29 page)

Khuharkk' felt dark fury. What an insult to this world! What a wound to the heritage of the Na-Dina! Thanks to language lessons from Axum, he had grown to respect her people, even to understand somewhat their way of Honor and their devotion to dead Ancestors. He snarled out his offer. "I will return to fight and free these captives! Take me!"

Mitchell looked away from Etsane, whose face had grown hard and stiff. The older man nodded abruptly. "Your Honor Challenge on behalf of the Na-Dina is accepted." Their leader looked back to Etsane and Natual. "You two don't have to come. This is all-volunteer. But anyone who comes must carry a weapon. Except for Khuharkk', of course."

Etsane was already nodding. "Count me in! I'll get my sling!"

Natual raised a thin arm. "Me. Count me in. I may be a researcher, but I know when it is time to fight for what is right." The Drnian mimed aiming. "I know how to handle a pulse-gun."

"Good." Mitchell unbuckled his holstered gun and handed it to Natual. "Take this one. I'll get my two blasters from inside the Lab." The man pointed at Khuharkk'. "My Simiu friend, you go wake up Chief Marshal Pokeel--

assuming my retro-blast hasn't already done the job! Ask her to bring ten of her people."

"Why so few?" Etsane asked.

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"Because we've got to save room for sixty passengers. It'll be damned tight."

He made shooing motions. "Now get going! Run! We've got ten minutes!"

By the time they all gathered back at the ship, they had more than enough volunteers. Gordon weeded them out, making sure he took only those who were best armed, and the most experienced.

As he was sending them up the ramp into the ship, someone tugged on his sleeve. Mitchell whirled to find Axum there. "Doctor Mitchell! I found something!"

His temper flared. "Axum, now is not the time for archaeological dis--"

Axum flared her ears in the sign Mahree had said meant contrition. "Doctor, what we found today was not old, but new. You must see it for yourself. I... I believe it relates to Bill's murder."

Gordon paused for a half-second, staring at her. "All right," he said. "Keep this to yourself. I'll see it tomorrow, I promise. In the meantime--Axum, I'm trusting you with the safety of the camp. Don't fail me, okay?"

She drew herself up. "I will not, Doctor Mitchell. You have my word."

"Good."

Etsane sat in the front section of the shuttle, just behind the open pilot cabin, and struggled for control. Slavery. The very word made her go cold with anger. She rubbed her bare arms briskly, trying to restore circulation. Then she checked her supply of quartz stones, and the suppleness and readiness of her sling.

Ready, yes. She was ready.

Her mind kept presenting her with instances out of her world's past, in which people with skin the color of her own had been victimized in just that way.

And the slave- traders had not just been whites. No, they had included people from rival tribes who'd ruthlessly captured their neighbors and sold them like cattle. The same had happened in Arabia and South India.

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She licked dry lips. Slavery. How can it be happening again?

Across the aisle, Doctor Strongheart looked her way. "Etsane, this must be painful for you." The female Heeyoon's gaze carried deep sympathy. Of course, Etsane thought. Greyshine and his mate, alone among the aliens in camp, had probably done extensive reading about Earth's bloody history.

Marshal Pokeel's Guards were checking their rifles, their bandoleers of ammunition, and the hand-to-hand knives they wore strapped to their waists.

A number of the researchers had chosen to come along, including little cream-colored Ttalatha, who was sitting between the Heeyoons and the Na-Dina warriors. The Paleoenvironmental specialist was staring down at the pulse-gun she held in her six-fingered, claw-tipped hands.

Gordon's voice echoed back from the pilot's compartment over the intercom.

"Chief Marshal, do you have suggestions on how we should carry out this raid?"

"You have described to me the layout of this slave camp, Philosopher Mitchell," she replied. "But seeing it firsthand is essential to planning any small-unit action."

"Here." Mitchell touched the middle of the control panel, lighting up a holo-tank lying between their seats. "Marshal, if you will examine this screen, I'll give you an aerial view of the layout."

Moments later, Pokeel looked up, her long snout showing sharp white teeth.

"The plateau is isolated, and that valley is grassy, with much open ground.

Not good. I will have to consider this."

Etsane gulped and clutched her sling so tightly her hands hurt.

Gordon went to a-grav support when they got within fifty kilometers of the slaver camp. Besides being less noisy than the main drive, the a-gravs allowed them to hover. And he could use the attitude-control chemical jets when they needed to maneuver to a final landing. Until then, they coasted in on widespread delta wings, holding altitude two

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hundred meters below the ridgeline that encircled the highland plateau.

Moving the yoke carefully, his feet pressing the aileron pedals delicately, Gordon added down-flaps as they came up on the ridgeline. He landed a few hundred feet from where he'd left Mahree.

"We're landing," he said tersely over the intercom to the passenger compartment. "No one leaves until I do. Keep the chatter low, and no one fires on anything without an order."

The shuttle grounded on the rock bench where he'd landed the first time.

Glancing through the nose-window, he searched for the black of Mahree's StarBridge uniform, but did not see it. Damn! He turned to the Na-Dina Guard leader. "Pokeel, I suggest we share command on attack planning, since I'm familiar with our weapons. But you should be in full command on the ground. This is your land, your people are captive, and frankly, I've never led a raiding party." He got up.

Pokeel hissed her approval, then followed him out into the aisleway. "A good recommendation. I accept." Flaring her ears, she addressed her soldiers. "Sisters, heads low. Tails flat to the ground. Maqueen, you stay behind to guard our transport. Bites-Hard, you are second in command to me. Now move!"

The ten Na-Dina rose up, rifles held in their talon-hands. The Camp volunteers also stood, their expressions determined but worried. Gordon didn't blame them. He was scared, too.

He checked to make sure his blaster was secure in his holster, then led the way down the loading ramp. At the bottom, he stared out to where she'd been.

She was gone.

Where are you, Mahree?

Mahree crawled out from under the boulder where she'd hidden when two smugglers had walked by on a patrol of the perimeter. She stood up cautiously and waved at Gordon, saw his expression change from anxious worry to joy.

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Oh, God,
she thought,
what are we going to do? I think I'm falling in love with him! But I can't be!

He hurried up to her, followed closely by Pokeel, nine of her Guards, and six volunteers from Camp, including Etsane and Khuharkk', who ran together.

They were screened from direct sight of the hut by scrubby brush, but still they hunkered down and spoke in whispers. "You moved. Why?"

Quickly, she explained. "But I don't think they have posted guards on the perimeter," she added. "They just did that one sweep."

"Here, put this on," Gordon said, holding out the second blaster. Mahree hesitated, then quickly complied, turning her pulse-gun over to him. Quickly, he handed it to Greyshine.

Mahree looked at Pokeel. "Chief Marshal, the four pulse-guns are flexible weapons, from stun to disrupt, which kills. Our two blasters are like the light of Mother's Eye. Nothing will stop them. They can even penetrate the hull of the transport out there."

She paused and wet her lips, then gratefully took a swallow from a canteen Gordon offered her. They were all huddled around her, the hot sun of midday reflecting off metal, fur, and scales. "If possible, I favor stunning the smugglers. Unless they use deadly force."

Gordon frowned. "Mahree, they're carrying only blasters. That's deadly force anytime one fires."

Pokeel's ears flared questioningly. "Range. What's the range of your weapons?"

Gordon spoke first. "A kilometer for blasters. Three hundred meters for pulse-guns. Both make a noise when fired." The Na-Dina Chief Marshal nodded, then pointed at the scanner eyeshade hanging around Mahree's neck. "Is that a far-viewer? Like our hand scopes?"

"It is," Mahree said, removing the eyeshade and holding it out. "Would you like to use it to scout the slaver camp?"

"Yes," Pokeel said, taking the eyeshade and arranging it on her domed head with little difficulty. "This works by blink-control?"

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Mahree shook her head admiringly. The Na-Dina Marshal had clearly been watching her and the other CLS volunteers when they used the devices during ruin surveys. "It does. Enlarges or decreases by powers of ten. Range displays across the top of the shade."

"Good," Pokeel said. "Please wait for a brief span while I survey our target."

They waited respectfully until the Na-Dina Marshal reappeared.

"Philosopher, Ambassador, there is a standard small-unit tactic for this situation. It is called Flank, Decoy, and Attack. I recommend we use it now."

Mahree looked at her. "Please explain. And tell us where and how you want the camp volunteers deployed."

Pokeel nodded, a human mannerism she'd quickly adopted. "Very well.

Bites-Hard, you will take one other Sister, circle around this Crestline, and approach from the opposite side of this valley. You will be unarmed." The other Na-Dina flattened her ears, but did not protest. "The two Sisters will approach the encampment, behaving as if they are herders in search of lost
nokseem
."

Bites-Hard fluttered her ears in the Na-Dina sign of acquiescence and comprehension.

"Your appearance will draw the Sky Infidels out of their sky vehicle and the stone house, and around to the far side of the Sky craft. Most or all of the Infidels will then be looking away from this side of the valley. We shall attack from this direction, when the maximum diversionary effect is achieved.

Understood?"

"Yes, Marshal!" Bites-Hard said, and, as they watched, she beckoned to another Sister. The two left their weapons and slipped away into the brush to begin their circle of the little valley. The Marshal turned back to Mahree and the archaeologists.

"Ambassador, your people will take the left flank, with you and Philosopher Gordon staying close enough to me for voder communication. I suspect radio com unit broadcasts could be detected by these Sky Infidels. Correct?"

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Gordon nodded swiftly. "Correct. Radio silence." He turned to pass the word back.

Mahree watched as Pokeel waited until Gordon finished; then the Na-Dina pointed at the Crestline. "My Sisters and I, we will form a skirmish line on the right flank. Half will stay there to cover us as we run downslope to the corrals. The rest of us will run like Long-Necks and hope to reach the captives before the slavers on the far side of the transport become aware of our approach."

Mahree's heart beat fast. The plan made sense, but it also depended on luck, timing, and the expectation that the slavers would not kill the two Guard Sisters on sight, but let them approach. She accepted a replacement scanner eyeshade from Gordon, whose grim expression matched her feelings. She followed after Pokeel as the Marshal led them, with everyone crouching, up to the Crestline of the ridge.

Overhead, Mother's Eye beat down, baking the rocky ground with a dry heat that drove moisture from her neck, made her bound-up hair itch, and sapped her energy levels. She took another drink of water and washed down a salt pill, and noticed many of the others doing the same thing.

Etsane and Khuharkk', she observed, were sticking close together as they prepared for the raid. Gordon moved into place beside her, blaster in hand, his expression grim and determined.

She gave him a glance, reached out to squeeze his hand briefly, and whispered, "Stay safe, Gordon."

He nodded. "You too, Mahree."

Together, they endured the waiting.

Etsane crouched behind the Crestline, waiting for the two Na-Dina Guard Sisters to come over the far ridge and head down to the valley bottom, there to decoy the slavers. To her left, Khuharkk' crouched on all fours, his long-muscled arms flexing, his lips pulled back to display sharp canines, his manner very feral, very deadly, and very honorable. He met her gaze, his violet-hued eyes bright with something alien.

"May we both achieve Honor," he growled.

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"Yes," Etsane said. "May we both fight well."

The Simiu turned his gaze back to watching the poor captives huddled below in the corrals. She did the same. It was horrible to watch them suffer from the sun and the heat. Mahree had said they'd been given water only once since landing, and most seemed half crazed with thirst. Two Heeyoon wandered up to the edge of their corral, motioning to one guard for water.

The guard instead reached out and touched them with his stun-prod, sending the gray-furred beings reeling back to fall on the dusty ground of the corral. They lay there in the merciless glare from Mother's Eye, twitching feebly from the effects of the stun. The other slaves stared at them, drugged into indifference.

"The Guard Sisters approach," Khuharkk' said softly. Etsane lowered her scanner eyeshade, blinked to telescopic, and watched as the two soldiers ambled down the far slope, their blue-scaled tails dragging listlessly, as if they'd been out hunting for lost herds the entire morning.

Etsane stretched and flexed her muscles, getting ready to run. She'd done track in school, and, though not of Olympic quality, she'd always been the fastest in any competition.

Reaching down, she took three quartz stones from her bag, loaded one into her sling, and held the other two in reserve in her left hand. "Khuharkk'," she whispered, "do you think there's a pilot inside the transport? I see four guards on the ground, and the Anuran amphibian inside the cargo lock.