Bloodhype (29 page)

The thing was built for long jaunts. He’d have a margin of safety in the tanks that a raft couldn’t afford. No point in making it to the city and stopping dead in the water. He’d like the option of further travel. It would be fast enough.

The Vom and the Guardian fought.

On certain levels molecules were badly battered. There was a change due and both sensed it. The Vom could not tell how or when, but it was still jubilant over the arrival of the AAnn fleet. For this was one way it had traveled between worlds, on the ships and backs and minds of other races, chained to the Vom-self. Chained.

Kitten piloted the hoveraft over a mild sea. Whitecaps sparkled like citrine in the early morning sun. The mist was burning upwards and it would be clear and bright soon.

If he weren’t involved in an impossible series of events culminating in an absurd search, Mal might have enjoyed the sight. He wasn’t hungry, nor tired, for the first time in some while. He longed wishfully for the routine and peace of a normal trading cruise, light-years from everything. He was just about fed up.

“Look, Kitten. I’ve been dragged through this once before. Government secrecy or no, dammit, this time I’d like to know what I’m getting into before it up and smacks me in the chops.”

“Okay, we’re looking for . . . you remember our late friend Rose?”

“I’m afraid so. What about him?”

“I never saw him without that case of bloodhype on the AAnns’ island. He never put it down or let, go of it for a second. I’d guess he slept chained to it.” She was staring straight ahead, speaking softly. “I think it’s safe to assume it’ll still be with him.”

“Sure . . . wherever the body is. You should pardon the sentiment, ‘so what?’ Are you so concerned about collecting evidence for a posthumous prosecution? If the case is still intact and unbroken, it’ll stay put. The government can recover it anytime,” he concluded.

“Don’t you remember what Peot said?” she continued. “About the monster not being affected by energy weapons? What about biological ones?”

“You’re kidding. The thing is utterly alien. And too big.”

“As far as we know, bloodhype’s nearly a universal drug. And as far as the thing’s size is concerned, you know what a milligram of that powder can do. What about a few kilos? According to the reports, the monster ingests its food and expels practically nothing in the way of waste products. It’s a super-efficient metabolic factory . . . Hitting or shooting the creature with the powder could have several effects. Open, it might be absorbed immediately. That would be ideal, of course, since the powder would go into the thing’s digestive system rapidly. Or the powder might be ingested first, without the case.”

“Or,” interrupted Mal, “the monster might ignore it entirely. In that case the effort wouldn’t be just useless, it’d be suicidal, because the thing’s sure to notice the shooters. And if the powder were released at the wrong time, we’d be likely to get a pretty good whiff ourselves.”

“I still think it’s worth a try. Chances are we won’t be able to dig the case out anyway.”

“Agreed. But I’m beginning to see that no one’s going to leave this planet until that thing is destroyed. And I’ve about as much confidence in the peaceforce at Repler City doing that as I do of finding that case.”

“Then why let it upset you?” Kitten smiled.

Mal was staring hard out the glassite port. He moved to a swivel-mounted viewer, stared a moment longer. “I think we’ll have to revise our guess about everyone in the Enclave being killed.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Unless this viewer is badly scratched, I believe our case, with friend Rose still attached, is coming to meet us. Yes, without doubt.”

“Damn the man!” She actually stomped her foot. “How is it that such people are always the ones who manage to survive?”

“Carrion-eaters grow tough with age, Kitten. Hardly a new revelation. He’ll pass us portside soon.” He cut off and grabbed for a chair as Kitten threw the raft into a screaming turn. Clouds of spray flew meters high as the fans hit the water at an angle, threatening to turn them over.

“We’ll catch him,” she said grimly. “We’re faster than he is. Where does he think he’s heading, anyway? We’ll be in city waters in five minutes. Doesn’t he know he can be shot on sight?”

“He knows where he’s heading. If he’s still got that case of powder with him and if the wind’s right, he could try and blackmail the Governor this time. Once it gets in the air there’s no way to fight the stuff. You couldn’t treat the whole population soon enough any more than you could get them all into pressure suits in time. The city couldn’t take that kind of epidemic. Let me see if I can raise him on ‘cast.”

Mal made a few adjustments on the transceiver. “Waveskimmer, waveskimmer. Hoveraft behind you. We are closing. Please respond, you bastard.” No answer. “Doesn’t the old idiot know the Vom is around here somewhere? There are easier ways of committing suicide.”

No picture, no response. “You’re in a maximum danger area, Rose! Wake up!”

Static; scratchy voice. “I know, Hammurabi.” The onboard computer matched frequencies and the voice cleared. “I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, to use an archaism better suited to your Tolian tagalong. Tain’t dangerous for me! I know what I’m about.”

“Crazy,” Mal whispered to Kitten.

“Not by half, boy! I seem to keep running into you lately. Bad luck for both of us. Klashing Karmas. You alone?”

“Lieutenant Kai-sung is with me.”

“Call me that once more,” she murmured, “and I’ll break your head.”

“Listen, you touchy . . .!”

“My, my, dissension, dissension!” Rose’s tone was mocking. “I am in desperate straits, I see clearly. Why not wise up and try a profitable, predictable life in subtle evasion of accepted convention, Hammurabi?”

“And be secure in my old age, like you? Huh-uh, Rose.”

“Have you got the drug with you?” interrupted Kitten, unable to hold off any longer.

“My life-insurance? You must be joking.”

“We want it,” said Mal. “We want you, too, but I’d be willing to pass over that if you turn the stuff over.”

“I’ve already had one offer pulled back on me. I don’t think I’m ready to try the same again so soon. Let me think on it a mite. I’ve always been a gambler. I’ve still got a few chips left.”

“Convince him! You’re supposed to be the salesman!” Kitten whispered. “We’re getting too close to the city.” The computer indicated the shrinking distance between themselves, and the island of Will’s Landing, on which Repler City had been built.

“I’ve no time to argue with you, Rose. Turn about and hand the drug over and I’ll see . . .”

“No good, Hammurabi. Sorry, lad. If this works out and you change your mind about me, I might give you a job as a taskmaster.”

“Taskmaster?” Mal whispered to Kitten. “He
is
crazy!”

“See, lad, I know a good bit more about this monster than you think I know. I even know more than you think I know you know. I believe some sort of agreement wherein I supply, oh, locations of certain storehouses, general information, military advice and so forth might work out to mutual benefit. This thing has wants. I don’t know how well it reads minds yet, or when.”

“Listen, old man, you’re asking for a quicker death than any you’d get from your own kind. There’s more at stake here than your life. Or ours. Turn the drug over and forget any insane ideas you’ve got about trying to ally yourself with the alien. You won’t even make a decent-sized snack.”

“You haven’t got another choice,” Kitten added.

“How kind of you to be so solicitous of my health, little bird.” He paused. “Your urgency intrigues me. You want the drug but are willing to let me go. What are you going to do, go into business for yourself?” he sneered.

“We think it might have some effect on the monster,” she pleaded. Mal looked at her approvingly. This was a new act. It had appeal.

Rose only found it amusing. Or perhaps he found everything funny now. He laughed openly.

“You ascribe too much power even to jaster! Now if
you
were to personally guarantee my safety . . . off-planet transportation . . . immunity from prosecution . . . why, I might, just
might,
consider it.”

“I . . . I can’t. Not with
you.
With what you’ve done. I can’t promise that for others.”

“Ha! You see?”

“No, wait, wait!” Her face was taut. “Mal, see if you can raise the Rectory. There might be a channel open. I think the Major would consent to the bargain.”

“You’re really going to try and make a deal with that old scum? After what he had done to you? After what he was
going
to have done to you?”

“Don’t make this any harder than it is, please!” She looked at him and this time it wasn’t an act, no.

Mal adjusted the transceiver to tune in to any open Rectory frequency. “That’s the first time you ever asked me a favor instead of threatening or blackmailing your way into it.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Expectedly, Orvenalix wasn’t available. Kitten got him available.

“Well, Lieutenant, things are certainly interesting around here.” He twitched his antennae in a motion indicating thranx sarcasm. “How does
your
garden grow?”

“ ‘Ple astwin nirer, hyl.’
Quite contrary, taking in certain cogent points.” She explained the situation.

“I’ve linked up as you suggested,” came Rose’s voice clearly. The multiple hookup was crude, but would serve. “Tridee also. No tricks, now.”

“You know who I am?” asked Orvenalix.

“My guardian angel? How could I help but know you, Major? You’ve cost me a lot, in the past.”

“Would that it were more. I shall concur with the Lieutenant’s recommendations in all respects.”

“Swear by your hive-mother, the Queen, and your larval corridor.”

“Done,” said Orvenalix, after rattling off a long string of ancient thranx no one could understand. They apparently satisfied Rose, however.

Orvenalix betrayed none of the fury he must have felt. Restraining emotions as strong as that would drive many humans mad. Such emotional control was accepted matter-of-factly among the thranx.

“For all, uh, past discrepancies as well?”

“All that I have jurisdiction over. You’ll have to take your chances on other worlds. I have only so much authority. You’re stretching it now. Turn over the drug.”

There was a long pause during which the only sound from Rose’s end was that of the wind eddying across the pickup.

A sigh. “Oh, well, all right. It was a long-shot idea anyway. I think I was over-rationalizing for a while, there.”

“He’s slowing!” Kitten shouted, switching her gaze from the raft ‘tector to the port.

“You, honestly think that bloodhype will have any effect on that monster?” asked Mal.

She looked past him, at a spot on the far wall. “Maybe not. But I don’t think anything else will either, except maybe what Peot can do. If that fails, you know the alternative. The drug has to be tried.”

Rose slid over into the lee of one of the innumerable tiny islets that speckled Repler. They were so close to the city the towers of the central business district could be seen clearly.

“Have the case ready,” instructed Mal over the comm. “And no tricks yourself. I’d as lief break your neck as make money.”

“Impressive warning! Tricks, from
me?
Insults! I’m now an honest man, absolved of past sin. Didn’t you hear? As clear of conscience and . . .”

“Pious, isn’t he? Enjoys rubbing it in.”

“Ready to convert, no doubt,” said Kitten. “The man leaves a sour taste. To let him go free like this—that damn drug!”

“I’ll try not to do anything crazy, like busting him one. Remember: Phrases of Import and Salvation, The Book, Chapter IX: ‘To be angered by evil is to partake of it . . . stupid.’ ”

“You’re a student?”

“I’ve read some of The Book. Who hasn’t?”

They pulled alongside the waveskimmer. It rocked gently in the slight swell, engines idling. Mal could see Rose strapped into the pilot’s seat on the high foredeck. Kitten cut their own engines and he glanced back at her. “Want to do the honors?”

“Every time I set eyes on that person my faith in humanity drops several notches. It’s rock bottom now.” She swiveled in her chair. “At least the case is intact. No drug, no pardon. You do it.”

Mal grunted, took a step towards the door. When his foot came down, the floor wasn’t there anymore.

The deck dropped away from under him, bounced up at a different angle. Mal found himself tumbling head over reason. The far wall turned into a ceiling, came up too fast. Dazed, he struggled to his knees while the ship played cocktail shaker around him. Several loud clangs sounded from the rear of the raft. Kitten screamed. He turned in her direction.

She was still strapped into the pilot’s seat, silhouetted against the gray sky. A jet-black curtain shot through with silver was shutting out the light. The blackness that finally overcame him was of a more familiar variety.

Down in the abyss of its vast consciousness, a miniscule portion of the Vom-mind noted the incident. It was recorded and filed for further attention. It could not be spared time for follow-up or evaluation. Not now. Worlds were at stake.

On some parts of Repler, iron changed unnoticed to gold. And on at least one island, to copper. Then back again. Fish of a hundred different varieties schooled, forming unnatural association.

A small, peaceful crustacean reeled under the impact of an intelligence boost of a hundred thousand times. It was immediately gobbled by a torpid bottom feeder.

The second moon, which continued to spin counterclockwise, abruptly lowered its orbit a hundred kilometers.

Repler VI and VII were both gas giants. They began to break up, responding to titanic internal convulsions. Great clouds of ammonia and methane flew off like cotton into space.

On a large island, a snake-like reptile was trying to slither from one branch to one on another tree. Limbless body, straining. A force capable of destroying continents acted. Another pushed and lifted. A nanosecond of conflict. The pseudosnake leaped, missed. Fell and died. It was mere important than an exploding gas giant or mass-scale transmutation. The killer knew it. The lifter knew it.