Alien Chronicles 3 - The Crystal Eye (6 page)

“Yeah,” Paket said bravely. “I figured that.”

Again guilt touched Elrabin and he ducked his head while he quickened his pace. He’d been lying his whole life. What was one more falsehood now?

The truth was, a bounty lay on the head of every runaway, whether that individual was wanted dead or alive. Sometimes when he happened to be in a city, Elrabin would tap in access on a public vid link just to check to see how big his reward had grown. Galard Stables was still operational, although no longer the undisputed champions of the arena circuit. And the bounty reward for Elrabin’s death still stood on record. Ampris was believed to be dead, so no reward had ever been posted for her, the lucky creature. Sometimes when times got lean, Elrabin was tempted to turn himself in so he could collect a percentage of the reward. But he couldn’t figure out how to work the scam so he didn’t get himself taken prisoner in the process.

The patrollers were Viis individuals as hard hit by the economic troubles of their empire as any of the other citizens. All patrollers had scanners with an infinite number of missing registrations programmed into them. Whether they drew duty on the city streets, or agricultural details, or merchant guards, or the Bureau of Security, they checked anyone and everyone, always hoping to score lucky and collect a reward.

Taking Paket anywhere near the vicinity of a patroller was suicide. Elrabin knew he was risking getting the old one killed. If Paket had any sense he would know it too.

But to save Ampris, Elrabin was willing to let almost anyone become expendable. That wasn’t the way Ampris wanted it. She’d tried for years to reform him, to turn him into someone as honest as she was. But Elrabin knew the truth didn’t always get you where you needed to go.

Still, he felt guilty and unsure. To distract himself, he started talking.

“I figure we’ll circle around and not head toward the compound until nightfall. We want it good and dark before we leave cover. I’ll have to pick the security system, fuse it some way.”

“But that will cause trouble,” Paket said worriedly. “The guards will be alerted. They will come after us.”

“Yeah, but by then we won’t be there,” Elrabin said, rolling his eyes at having to explain the obvious to Paket. Too old for this, he really was. “We’ll be at the slave quarters instead, pulling Ampris out.”

“You make it sound simple,” Paket said, panting hard. “But nothing ever is.”

“Yeah, well, we just have to make up the rest of our plan as we go,” Elrabin muttered. “I had enough doubts coming my way from Velia. Let’s think positive, see?”

“Think positive. We’re going to break into a Viis compound, complete with guards and security nets, just the two of us, with nothing but one old side-arm and my slicer.” Paket snorted. “Yeah, I’m positive.”

Put like that, it sounded worse than foolhardy. Elrabin flicked back his tall ears. “So what you be doing loping along with me?”

He made the question a challenge, but Paket didn’t falter. “I was condemned to the quarries, and I survived them. I was condemned to Vess Vaas, and I lived to see that place of horrors destroyed. You think I don’t believe Ampris can find a way out of a farmer’s slave quarters?”

Elrabin yipped. “Yeah, same figuring I had. She’s—”

He heard a faint rush of sound and turned his head, glimpsing motion from the corner of his eye. Alarmed. Elrabin flung up his hand and started to call out, but he was tackled from the side and knocked to the ground.

The impact hurt. His shoulder hit the ground first, jolting sharp pains up into his neck, then his head thumped hard. He bit off a yelp and squirmed violently beneath the weight of his attacker. Whoever it was didn’t weigh much. Elrabin threw him aside and scrambled dizzily to his feet, swaying and cursing while he drew the side-arm from his pocket.

“Stop!” It was Paket who spoke, Paket who gripped his arm and deflected his aim.

But by then Elrabin had seen the identity of his attacker. Glaring at the thin, gangly figure swathed in a hood of coarse cloth, Elrabin did not fire. Instead he pocketed his weapon and slapped dirt from his coat. “Go home, Nashmarl,” he said in disgust.

The cub strutted around him once, then twice. Nashmarl was the number two son of Ampris’s single litter, born of genetic experimentation deep in the horrific recesses of Vess Vaas Laboratory. Neither Aaroun nor Viis but instead some tragic combination of the two, the youngster was skinny and awkward, with long limbs and bony shoulders. His skin was a pale cream color, showing through a fur pelt so thin it resembled down. On his face and head he had no fur at all, and his skin tended to burn if exposed to the sunshine. Now twelve years old and more than half-grown, he was as tall as Elrabin, with an ugly flattened face lacking more than a vestigial muzzle. He had no visible ears, and his forehead curved in a dome above two deep set eyes of Viis green.

Now blocking Elrabin’s path, he parted his jaws in a grin, revealing Aaroun-sized fangs. “I got you. Elrabin!” he said triumphantly. Glee danced in his green eyes. “I got you good. Hey, Paket! Did you see how I got him?”

Paket’s ears were flat. He said nothing.

Elrabin glared at the cub. “Go home.”

Nashmarl skipped and strutted back and forth in front of them. “Admit it. I’ve been following you all the way down the mountain, and you didn’t know it, Elrabin. Neither of you knew it. I could have taken you anytime.”

Elrabin locked eyes with the cub. “Sure, you attacked me, but you ended up on the wrong end of business.” He patted the pocket that held his weapon and looked hard at the cub to make sure he understood how insignificant his accomplishment actually was. “Now, go home.”

Nashmarl’s grin faded and he came closer. “What are the two of you doing out here in the hottest part of the day?”

“Hunting,” Paket said with an impatient growl.

Elrabin gestured at the old one to stay quiet, but Nashmarl noticed the signal. His green eyes were quick. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Paket, you’ll tell me the truth, won’t you?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Elrabin told him before Paket could answer.

“What are you doing with Mother’s side-arm?”

“Paket told you. Hunting.”

Nashmarl’s gaze narrowed. His mouth pinched down tight and suspicious. “You don’t hunt with a side-arm. not game you don’t. What are you up to? Where’s Mother? You were supposed to be—”

“Look, forget the questions,” Elrabin broke in impatiently. “We’re busy, see? We got no time to stand here jawing with you. Ain’t you supposed to be hunting with Harthril? Yeah, you are. So what’s the news? You find game? You got something to contribute to the pot tonight? Or ain’t you doing whatever Harthril told you to do?”

The last question hit its mark. A dull blush of red darkened Nashmarl’s facial skin. His green eyes grew bright with anger.

Elrabin nodded, not giving the cub time to answer. “Thought so. You ain’t never going to learn nothing, you keep slipping off from your lessons.”

“I don’t have to do what Harthril tells me,” Nashmarl said, lifting his head very high. “He’s just a stupid Reject.”

“He ain’t no Reject with us,” Elrabin said angrily. “You know that. Your mother done made that clear to everyone.”

Nashmarl’s thin nostrils flared, but he said nothing.

“So what are you supposed to be doing?” Elrabin asked.

Nashmarl didn’t answer.

Elrabin grimly reminded himself that Ampris had given birth to this green-eyed brat and tried to be patient. “I asked you a question.”

Nashmarl’s gaze shifted away. Sullenly he said, “Harthril told me to watch the mouth of the top canyon. He was going to flush out some grassens, and I was supposed to hold the net.”

Paket growled, very softly.

Elrabin thought of plump grassen, a fowl with tasty white flesh, and his mouth started watering. He thought of the folks in the camp, hungry and waiting. He glared at this spoiled youth who couldn’t seem to get the concept of responsibility through his bony head.

“You and Harthril found grassens,” he said, keeping his voice low and quiet. Inside, his heart was thumping hard and violently, shooting his pulse through his veins.

Nashmarl shrugged. “We found them, a whole flock. Have you ever realized how stupid they are? Harthril couldn’t drive them anywhere. They just panic and start running in circles.”

“Defense mechanism,” Paket said with a growl.

“Stupid,” Nashmarl said. “I could hear Harthril in the brush, but he never got them herded to the nets, so I left. It was boring anyway. At least when Mother goes hunting, she takes a sling and brings them down on the wing with one good shot. Boom!” He smacked his fist into his palm.

Elrabin’s anger was pumping red into his vision. He felt almost nauseous at the thought of Harthril’s hard work wasted because of this careless, heedless cub.

“Harthril can’t use a sling,” Elrabin said in the Reject’s defense. “He has a crippled shoulder.”

“Yeah, the same old excuse,” Nashmarl said, tipping his head back to look at the sky. “Is something burning?”

Both Elrabin and Paket ignored his question. Paket’s teeth were bared, and Elrabin wanted to bite Nashmarl so bad he almost didn’t dare trust himself.

“So you left Harthril,” Elrabin said. “You left the net.”

“Sure. I heard you go up to the camp, puffing like you were going to pass out.” Nashmarl tipped back his head and laughed. “You’re getting old, Elrabin. Old and out of shape. So I followed you. I wanted to show you I can track and stalk, as good as anyone in the camp. Proved it too. Tackled you before you knew I was coming.”

“Shut up,” Elrabin snapped.

Nashmarl’s laughter died away, but he stared at Elrabin with devilment still dancing in his eyes.

Elrabin glared back. “Harthril has spent how long hunting those grassens?”

Nashmarl shrugged. “Who cares? It was boring. It was taking too long.”

“You little fool! It takes time and skill to drive grassens into a trap. Harthril is a master at that. No one else among us can do it.”

“So?”

“So we would have had a whole flock held captive. We could have eaten them for several days. Instead, you just walked away. You got tired and bored, and you quit. We could starve because of you—”

“No way,” Nashmarl said, although his green eyes grew wider. “You and Mother were supposed to bring home lots of food. So where’s yours? I don’t see any. You goof up, Elrabin? You think you can blame your failure on me? It was your responsibility to get food today, not mine.”

Elrabin’s temper got away from him. Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and cuffed Nashmarl hard where his ear should have been.

The cub squalled and cowered down, putting his arms over his head. “You hit me!” he said, his voice raw with fury and disbelief. “That hurt!”

“Shut up. You ain’t been hurt. You don’t know what hurt is.”

Nashmarl glared at him. “You’d no right to do that.”

“When your mother isn’t here, I’m in charge,” Elrabin said harshly. He wanted to hit the cub again, wanted it so much the emotion scared him inside. “Everyone in our band has a responsibility to bring home food, every day. You know that! It’s the cardinal rule of the camp.”

“Rules,” Nashmarl said scornfully, still rubbing his face where Elrabin had smacked him. “Your rules, maybe, but I don’t—”

“Our rules, you little fool!” Elrabin said, wanting to shake some sense into him. “Don’t give me any more of that. You’ve known the rules since you were crawling. They go equal for everyone. You deliberately blew ’em off. When Ampris hears about this, she’ll—”

“I was getting too hot,” Nashmarl said, switching his defiance into a whine. “My skin was burning. I’m not supposed to be outside when the sun is this hot.”

“Then what you be doing out here right now?” Elrabin asked him through gritted teeth.

Nashmarl blinked. “I thought you’d be proud of me. I wanted to sneak up on you and show you how much I’ve learned.”

Elrabin could barely listen to him. The cub’s insincere flattery annoyed him even more than he already was. “Yeah, you showed me. You showed me you ain’t willing to think about anyone but yourself. Now you go back to camp and apologize to Harthril, then maybe you’ll learn something.”

Again, Nashmarl’s face reddened. “Apologize?” he echoed. “Never! I don’t owe that Reject any—”

Elrabin came at him again with his hand upraised, and with a cry Nashmarl cringed away from him.

“Shut up,” Elrabin said in disgust. “Get back to camp and lie in the shade. You be spoiled and lazy—”

“I am not!”

“You be useless.”

Outrage flared in Nashmarl’s eyes. “You can’t talk to me like this—calling me names, insulting me. You aren’t my—”

“I’ll talk to you like I want,” Elrabin said. “You done put the camp at risk, see? You got to be punished.”

“No one’s going to punish me,” Nashmarl said. His green eyes narrowed with all the arrogance of a Viis. “Certainly not you.”

Elrabin pointed up the hill. “Get out of here. Go!”

“I will not go. I will not do anything you say. You can’t make me.”

Elrabin bared his teeth, tempted to seize the cub by his scruff and drag him back into the camp. But there wasn’t time. He’d wasted enough of it with this young fool already.

“Fine,” he said shortly. “When your mother gets back, we’ll deal with it. Now, get out of my way.”

“I’ll tell her,” Nashmarl said, making it a threat. “I’ll tell her what you said to me. I’ll tell her you hit me.”

“I’ll hit you again if you don’t get out of my way,” Elrabin growled. He pushed past Nashmarl, who scurried out of reach, and strode on down the hill with Paket at his heels.

“Street trash!” Nashmarl called after him. “You think you’re someone important because Mother likes you, but you’re really—”

With an oath, Elrabin swung around, but Nashmarl vanished from sight into the underbrush. Seconds later, a rock came sailing out of the thicket and struck Elrabin on the shoulder.

His temper snapped completely. Growling, he started into the brush, but Paket grabbed him by his coattail and held him back.

“Let him go,” Paket said.

Elrabin panted with anger. “He needs his hide skinned.”