Drowning World (10 page)

“Once it can be demonsstrated that the only way to protect the Deyzara iss to remove them from thiss world and repatriate them to Tharce IV, you will have achieved that which you wanted.” He signed first-degree significance, even though none among the Sakuntala recognized the gesture. “As ssoon as that has been carried out, the new governing council, repressenting all your clanss, will announce that Fluva iss ssevering any affiliation with the Commonwealth. Upon itss withdrawal, you will declare your dessire to be repressented in future matterss of intersstellar import by the gloriouss Empire, may the beloved Emperor Navvur W besstow his most lucid and luminouss blessings upon you.”

Iwoko-jei slid out of his chair. “We look forward to day when our AAnn friends move more freely among us, and to reclaiming of our world. Deyzara have Tharce Four and Commonwealth worlds to welcome them.” His burning eyes roamed the circle. “Sakuntala have only Fluva. Soon we take back our home!”

“One matter of ssome concern remainss.” Thessu was not quite ready to acknowledge that the meeting was at an end. “For thiss to work, it iss vital that our effortss be ssupported by a ssufficient majority of Ssakuntala. Are you, at thiss late date, confident that thiss will be sso?”

Aniolo-jat spoke up before Iwoko-jei could reply. The senior Yuiqueru glared at the younger war chief but chose not to make the breach of etiquette an issue. Now was not the time. Aniolo-jat could be reprimanded later.

“It is true there are some who may oppose what we intend. But they are Sakuntala all. Once fighting begins, all reluctant ones will eventual join. They will have little choice. If after we have begun are still important ones who choose not participate, they will be dealt with appropriately. At the time, or afterward.”

He smiled at the two AAnn, marveling once again at the effort it required on their part for them simply to be able to walk about and breathe properly in Fluva's atmosphere. Because of this, they could never constitute more than a small presence on his world. Unlike the humans, for example, who were better able to tolerate Fluva's constant rain and damp even though they were not fond of it.

He felt that he understood the aims of these toothy-snouted beings better than most of his fellow Yuiquerus. The tough-skinned, thick-tailed visitors did not want to possess and exploit Fluva so much as they wished to deny it and its resources to the humans and the thranx. An alliance would give them an outpost of influence within Commonwealth space, much as one clan historically sought to destabilize an enemy by forging a union with dissident families belonging to the same clan. Surveying the circle, he eyed his fellow Sakuntala conspirators with fond contempt. Bold, robust fighters, every one of them. But they lacked vision. They could not see beyond killing Deyzara or driving them off Fluva. As a consequence, few of them would ever rise to become anything greater than Yuiquerus. Whereas he had been exposed, from listening to these AAnn, to greater possibilities.

Properly supported and backed, a Sakuntala could aspire to rule more than a single clan. Aniolo-jat did not want Iwoko-jei's standing, for example, or even that of Cecolou-tiu. The position he wanted belonged to the female Lauren Matthias—only it would be given to him by the AAnn, not by humans.

Let the Hatas and the Yuiquerus glory in their newfound status, in their complete dominance over their individual territories. Once the Deyzara had been dispossessed and removed from Fluva, many Sakuntala would revert to old ways. Traditional rivalries would reassert themselves even as the culture as a whole continued to make progress through further contact with the AAnn and their advanced technology. The Hatas would need someone to come to for advice. Someone to rule on internal disputes. Someone to distribute the aid and assistance the AAnn had promised to provide and to communicate requests on their behalf.

Him.

The position was already his. He knew it from the way the two AAnn officers acted when they spoke to him. They were happy to have found someone to handle the task, and he was more than happy to accept it. He would be paramount among his kind, a Hata among Hatas. All that was necessary was for everything to proceed as planned with the expulsion of the Deyzara. He was ready to accept the mantle that would then be handed to him.

Let it begin.

Jaruntamee was just opening his small shop when the four Sakuntala appeared. At first he thought they were customers and hurried to get his new display in order. The Sakuntala had proven fond of specialty sweets imported from Dargala, and he was doing a good business selling them to those who had hard credit to spend.

Then, as the rain turned from downpour to drizzle, he saw that they were holding not the traditional carry baskets but weapons. Though he was but a simple shopkeeper, he had no trouble identifying the slender, wicked-looking devices. Even in the dim light, they were unmistakable. One gleamed as if new, while the others looked old and worn. That did not render them any less ominous.

Startled by the sight, he rationalized that the Sakuntala were hunters who had acquired more sophisticated tools of their trade than springbows and spears. Only when they stopped in front of his shop and he could make out their expressions as clearly as their weapons did the shock of realization hit home. Dazed, he searched the street of suspended strilk for support, found none. His was the first place of business to open for the day. He was about to pay for his industriousness.

Though none of them pointed a gun directly at him, the respite was brief. Two of the tall forms brushed past him as if he didn't exist, nearly knocking him off his feet. When he saw what they were pulling from the carry pouches attached to their waist straps, he started forward.

“Gentle Sakuntala,” he began anxiously, “if I have given offense to you, please to let me know what it was and I will endeavor most strongly to make amends. I have no idea what has prompted this anger of yours, but I assure you that—here now, you can't do that!” He started forward. “You must stop! I am telling you most strongly, you cannot—”

Something struck him hard from behind, knocking him down. As the Deyzara had no knees but only a system of entwined ligaments and tendons in their arms and legs to support them, he folded rather than crumpled. At first he thought he had been shot. But the angry ache in his back was not accompanied by spreading blood.

His vision was blurred, but not his hearing. Though not as acute as that of Sakuntala or humans, it was good enough to overhear the Sakuntala laughing and chattering among themselves. All around him, he heard the rising cries of his neighbors as they were rousted from their homes and businesses by other armed indigenous. As he lay stunned in the rain on the now slightly swaying walkway, he wondered what had brought this on. Ever since the Deyzara had come to Fluva there had been rampages against them by the native populace. But these had all been sporadic, unorganized, and of brief duration. What was happening around him now smacked of careful preplanning. Furthermore, in the old days his attackers would simply have shot him. These seemed almost at pains not to do so.

He tried to rise, but a furry foot in his back kept him down. As he struggled to keep his trunks from being crushed beneath his face, he held back the words he wanted to shout. The fact that he had not been shot did not mean he could not provoke them to do so.

So he lay quietly and sobbed within himself as he watched his business burn.

In Udredruta, the Salamthi family was just concluding their morning mutual ablutions when two armed Sakuntala burst into the house.

“Here now!” Both trunks waving angrily, the senior of the two females present immediately placed herself between the junior wife and their pair of mutual offspring. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” She waved both hands and all four digits at the much taller intruders. “Get out, get out, both of you! You are not invited; you are not welcome here. Bursting in like this armed, and in front of the broodlings! You should be most ashamed of yourselves, oh yes.”

Raising the battered but still serviceable pistol he was holding, the nearer of the two Sakuntala shot her cleanly between eyes and speaking trunk. Hoots of shock and alarm rose from the surviving female. So terrified were the two broodlings that they expelled air through their eating as well as their speaking trunks.

The other Sakuntala growled at his companion. “We not supposed to kill them. Only frighten and chase from house. Yuiqueru Getouka-via will be unpleased.”

“May Getouka-via suffer a kensuk in his bowels.” The raptorish eyes of the other native were wild. “Ever since I a prewarrior I have watched Deyzara make most credit, take best home places. For years I see them looking at me like I a therruna just drop from top of whirltree. I hate them. I hate their clothes that hurt the eyes; I hate their smell; I hate their food. I hate everything about them.” As he looked down at the body of the senior female, lying smoking on the floor of the house, his expression did not change. “Let Getouka-via be unpleased. I, Nevairu-kei, am very pleased.” Raising the wonderful pistol that had been assigned to him, he leveled it at the two broodlings. Eyes rolling back fully into her head, both trunks quivering in fear, the junior female nonetheless placed herself between the weapon and the offspring.

Taking his companion's forearm in a strong six-fingered grip, the other Sakuntala forced the muzzle of the weapon down. “This not about Getouka-via. It not about you or me. I like Deyzara no more than you. But is greater end at stake here.” Both highly mobile ears inclined in the direction of the terrified remnants of the typical Deyzara family. “You remember talkings. Killing offspring the sort of thing that might bring humanx intervention. Better for us that Deyzara offspring walk away and humanx peoples have to feed and house them. Keep humanx authorities busy.” He smiled. “Feeding and housing take more time than dumping in Viisiiviisii. You want vengeance, my friend—or results?”

The other Sakuntala's initial, archetypal reaction at being grabbed was anger. Then it cooled, and common sense took over. It was a measure of how much the Sakuntala had advanced in the hundreds of years since their initial contact with the Commonwealth.

“My blood says kill them, but my mind says you speak wiseness.” Lowering the pistol, he fumbled in another pouch until he found one of the compact conflag packages. Taking it in his free hand, he broke the seal as he had been instructed and threw the activated handful against the back wall of the gathering room. The incendiary material contained in the package immediately set the wall aflame. It would burn, he knew, even in the rain, drawing the components necessary to sustain combustion from the very material it was consuming. The broodlings began to hoot even louder. The Sakuntala's ears twitched. It was a revolting sound.

“Let's go to next house.” The thrower's eagerness could not be denied. “Maybe they will have weapons and try resist. Getouka-via say we can shoot any who resist with weapons.”

“We must first decide what is weapon sufficient to justify shooting back.”

The pair continued their conversation as they strolled nonchalantly from the now flaming structure, leaving the junior female and the broodlings to make their way to safety as best they could.

Outside, a collective trill of massed panicked Deyzara hooting could be heard even above the falling rain.

In Nesawiti, a pitched battle was under way between their Sakuntala assailants and a handful of Deyzara determined to defend their community center. After two hours of exchanging fire with their indigenous attackers, they were forced to surrender when the main cables supporting the structure were severed by Sakuntala wielding cutters. With the building listing dangerously to one side and threatening at any moment to fall into the swirling waters below, they marched out and sullenly turned their weapons over to their tormentors. Expecting to be slaughtered, they pleaded only for the lives of their families. Though it could not be said they were delighted with the consequences, they were certainly surprised to find themselves only beaten, instead of killed.

More unexpectedly still, after razing and looting the interior of the dangling building the attacking Sakuntala left them to deal with their wounds and their misery. Someone found an undamaged cargo skimmer. Piling themselves and their families into the well-used but sturdy vehicle, tending to those who were most seriously injured, the survivors of the outpost rose above the trees and limped toward the nearest community with a Commonwealth station.

Nilsson was finishing his midday ration, while Erla had just cracked a container of pink grape juice. Mist rose from the cylinder as the contents automatically chilled to her preset preferred temperature. Next to her, Nilsson reached up to bat a wandering tseth off his shoulder. It had its augur unsheathed and was making a strenuous effort to bore through his shoulder armor. It buzzed angrily as it fell, broken-winged, toward the water seven meters below. Something long, slim, spotted, and yellow-black that Nilsson did not recognize thrust a pair of stem-mounted jaws skyward. One snapped shut around the body of the tseth with an audible popping sound before sliding back beneath the surface.

Chewing idly, Nilsson studied the spot where both creatures had vanished before returning to the last of his meal. Sometimes he wished he were a xenobiologist. Most of the time he did not. What he did wish was that his term of service on this world was six months further along. Then he would be packing to leave.

He knew his partner felt exactly the same. Commonwealth insistence notwithstanding, Fluva was no place for sensible human beings. But a presence was required, and like it or not, they were part of it. Erla had just put the freshly chilled drink to her lips when a dozen Deyzara came running along the walkway toward them.

Adults all, they were moving as fast as they were able. Deyzara were not naturally gifted runners, and their sandaled twin-digited feet tended to slip even on the dimpled, perforated artificial surface. They accelerated noticeably as they neared the end of the walkway, which began to sway beneath their weight. The reason for the terror Erla felt she saw in their goggling eyes soon manifested itself. Coming up hard behind them were half a dozen Sakuntala, wild-eyed, sharp teeth flashing, ears pointed forward like knives. Most of them carried intricately carved spears or traditional war clubs fashioned from jokobo or segleth wood. But two—Nilsson put aside the last of his food and Erla set down her drink—two of them carried shock rifles. Held them correctly, too, at the appropriate end, with two thin fingers resting on each trigger.