Mute (45 page)

And of course it didn’t necessarily follow. The root was not in the mutancy, but in isolationist nature, in his excluding of elements that were different. Before there had been mutants, man had done similar things to other minorities. Yet how could man’s nature be changed, without by definition eliminating man himself?

Let’s replace man with weasels and crabs,
Hermine thought.

Knot laughed—but found his laughter converting to thought. Maybe it
was
time for some other species to try its competence as galactic administrator. He would have to add that notion to his ponder file.

They cleared the water and the marsh and found the steep bank. The path lurched upward along the face of the shore cliff. Loose gravel crunched and skidded underfoot. But the gross one proceeded upward confidently, and Knot followed. He knew Mit would alert Hermine to any pressing peril.

It was a long way up. Gusts of wind tugged at them playfully. The crashing of the breakers slowly receded. Knot’s legs grew weary, as they always did when he had to sustain “normal” locomotion too long without rest. At least the slant was correct; his short left leg was uphill.

He remembered Gurias’ advice to travel by night. How much night remained? When they achieved safe ledges, they rested briefly, and sometimes Mit had them pause while some nocturnal creature passed. How big did the serpents grow, here?

Slowly dawn came, the sunlight angling lengthwise along the face of the cliff. Now Knot saw exactly what he had traversed, and experienced a surge of vertigo. The cliff was not only steep, it overhung in places. It seemed they had wound up a tortuous ribbon that passed under one overhang and over another, sometimes directly above itself. The nests of large birds were here—and now those birds were stirring, taking flight, becoming aware of the intruders. That should mean there was no danger of snakes at this stage; the birds would not tolerate them near the nests.

We must move on quickly,
Hermine thought.
The birds will soon attack.

Because they didn’t tolerate people near their nests either, Knot realized. He informed the gross one by squeeze, and they did what Knot would really rather not have done, considering his fatigue and the precariousness of their situation: they hurried. Stones squirted from beneath their feet, and sand cascaded from handholds. The morning breeze stiffened as if trying to nab them while it could. Knot knew it was merely a meteorological phenomenon, transporting air from the warm sea to the cooler land, channeling swiftly up the cliff, but it certainly seemed malignly purposeful. This also provided buoyancy for the birds, more of whom hovered near, eyeing the trespassers.

And Knot remembered that he had not brought along a good stick, despite Gurias’ advice. How could he have found one in the dark, or carried it when he was naked and needed both hands for clutching the treacherous cliff he was not sure, but now he wished he had at least tried. Mit could have directed him to one, had he asked. He felt naked, not merely because he
was
naked. The beaks of the birds looked cruelly sharp, and their little eyes glittered.

Collect rocks,
Hermine thought.
Soon you must throw.

Knot picked up those loose rocks he could locate. When a particular bird became too bold, he hurled a stone at it. The missile missed, and the recoil gave Knot a nasty shove; a small torrent of debris washed down below him. Only assurances that Mit knew they would not fall prevented him from panicking. He hated this.

He found himself chewing nervously on something—and realized it was the diamond. Quickly he put it back in the safety of his cheek. He didn’t want to spit that out here.

Another bird swooped. This time Knot braced himself more securely and flipped a rock out backhand. It also missed, but it taught the bird respect. Knot scrambled on after the gross one during the respite.

Danger,
Hermine thought.
Snake.

Where?
He had supposed there would be none up here while the birds were active, but the weasel obviously knew better.

Coming down path. A large one, poisonous.

Knot moved ahead to touch the gross one. BIG SNAKE COMING DOWN. POISON.

The gross one understood this threat. WE HIDE WHERE?

It is sated,
Hermine thought.
Not hungry. It will not bite unless disturbed. Stand still, let it pass.

STAND STILL. IT WILL PASS, Knot relayed. He was glad they did not have to try to retreat down the path; he wasn’t sure how far he could make it.

Now he saw the snake. It was indeed big; three times the length of a man, and with a girth like a man’s thigh. It had to derive from Earth, since the fauna of colony worlds did not match’s Earth’s. Perhaps a mutant, freed by its Macho owner when it grew too large or vicious. Its skin was patterned with reddish dots, and fangs protruded in front. On a narrow path like this, such a creature could readily dislodge the men—if it chose to.

Think thoughts of friendship,
Hermine directed.

Knot realized she would relay these to the reptile, calming it. Good strategy! He thought how nice snakes could be when they were tame, keeping the premises free of rats, sunning themselves, slithering lithely about. Snakes were the most graceful of creatures, smooth and sinuous. Some breeds became very friendly, and could be carried wrapped around a forearm.

The snake slid down the path. The gross one was before it, standing with squat legs spread, straddling the path. The serpent paused, then moved between the legs, taking the center of the path. It moved past the gross one’s tail section and bore down on Knot. Nice pet, he thought determinedly. And actually it did have beauty.

The snake passed on between Knot’s feet. It seemed to take forever to complete its transit, but finally the last of the tail disappeared. Knot relaxed. This had certainly been better than trying to fight it.

Now we must move, before the birds return,
Hermine thought.

Knot notified the gross one, and they went on. It did seem the snake had done them a favor, for the birds were wheeling at a greater distance than before. They might not like reptiles near their eggs, but they had little choice about this one.

Then, suddenly, they were at the top. Evidently the serpent hunted on level ground, and rested safely down the bank, protected during its long slumbers by the terrain and the vigilance of the birds. If Knot had had to forage here, he might have done the same. He stretched himself over the lip and lay panting. His arms and legs ached; he had not been truly aware of his fatigue until now, when the tension eased.

We must travel,
Hermine thought urgently.
Mit has picked up a suggestion—it is way beyond his normal range—and fears Finesse’s next torture will be very ugly.

Ugly? What did the little crab think the first two had been? A girl devoured live by a beast, a man crushed to death—
The little girl!
Knot thought. He climbed to his feet.
How far is it?

Far,
she thought.
Days to walk.

Then we must ride. Where is a suitable vehicle?

Mit says there is a small aircraft an hour’s walk from here. But they will not take us where we must go.

Just head me in the right direction.
The weariness faded as he moved. The gross one followed, never seeming to tire. There were several brightly colored small craft perched near the airport building. Some were rocket boosters, some blimpeds, some winged craft.
Maybe we rent one?
Knot thought rhetorically.

No. Need money and identification and license.

Then we must steal one.

Yes. Mit says the blue one with wings.

Mit had to know. That one must be fueled and operable and have sufficient range. Without the hermit crab, pure chance would have militated against them; with Mit, many devious things become feasible.

You must use your psi,
Hermine thought as they approached.

Right,
Knot agreed, experiencing
déjà vu
. When had a similar situation arisen? Ah yes—on Planet Chicken Itza, when the Doublegross Bladewings were attacking. And for some reason the fierce fighting cocks had turned out to be afraid of blood. That still didn’t make sense.

He walked up to the main building, the gross one following. He found the office. And remembered that he was naked, with a max-mute at his side. WAIT HERE, he squeezed to the gross one. He wondered if his companion realized that they had now escaped the enclave. But of course the escape was not secure until they got well away from it, unobserved by any knowledgeable party.

The Macho functionary looked up from his desk, surprised. Knot started talking before the man could. “Hello, I had a bit of trouble back there. Craft went down in a cornfield. Need to borrow my friend’s craft to hop home, get my clothes on. In fact, better borrow some clothes here. What’ve you got?”

“Who are you?” the other demanded.

Project impression of symmetry of body,
Knot told Hermine, realizing that his obvious mutant status would put the normal off. Aloud, he said: “That’s all right; I’ll pick them out myself.” He proceeded to the officer’s camping cubby under Hermine’s direction, found the closet, and began sorting through uniforms.

“You can’t—!” the man cried indignantly, half paralyzed by the audacity of it.

Knot picked out what he liked and climbed hastily into it.

The fit was tight-loose, as always.

The officer went back to his desk and snatched the phone. “Security?” he asked. “There’s an intruder here.”

Knot completed his quick dressing, then walked out the back way while the man was expostulating on his phone. He walked around the building to pick up the gross one. FOLLOW LIKE A CAPTIVE, he squeezed. WE MUST PASS BY TROOPS.

They headed directly for the blue airplane, the gross one following Knot submissively.

A troop of security men ran past them. Knot knew that by the time the men got the story from the officer, much of Knot’s visit would have been forgotten. His psi was really useful in this sort of situation. Meanwhile, he was now in uniform and not subject to casual challenge—which was the point of this by-play. His psi would not have availed him, had he approached the blue airplane as a naked mutant.

There was a guard at the airplane parking area, but he glanced at Knot’s uniform and made no challenge. Of course there were always bits of metal and decorations and emblems attached to uniforms, symptomatic of the military mind’s attraction to shine and color, and he did not have these on. But Hermine was broadcasting the impression of legitimacy so that no one noticed. Knot put the gross one aboard, then strapped himself into the pilot’s seat.
Mutant beasties, do your thing,
he thought with a grim smile.

Flying an airplane was a challenge for the little crab, and Knot had to help him.
There should be a way to start the engine—ah, yes, thank you. And a way to make the plane taxi forward. Yes. And a way to make it take off.

It was a dangerously wobbly ascent, but they made it. Once in the air, Knot began to get the feel of it, and the flight became smoother. Mit stopped sweating—or whatever it was mutant crabs did when nervous.

We are not yet safe,
Hermine warned.
Your psi confused the Machos, but they know the aircraft has been stolen because the theft registers on their electronic record board. They will pursue. Mit says they have faster aircraft in the vicinity, with weapons.

They surely do,
Knot agreed.
What is the best strategy to avoid them?

Fly fast and low, near the ocean cliffs.

Right.
Knot directed the plane toward the ocean and brought it as low to the ground as he dared. As the cliff came beneath him, he felt again the vertigo he had experienced while climbing it. This time it was more pleasurable. He felt much safer in the plane, and most of his body was getting a chance to rest.

In fact, the opening vista was quite striking: greenish fields extending almost to the brink, then the gray/white gash of the dropoff, and the blue/green water below. He looked for the house-raft, where Thea the mermaid rode, but could not spot it. This was probably too far to the east of the chasm, and he was flying rapidly farther away from it. Which was all right; he liked her well, but had never deluded himself that there could be anything permanent between them. He had, at least, repaid her well for her help; she would now have her special fulfillment
.

Would there be children who might meet in twenty years? Doubtful; he would not be marrying Finesse, much as he would have liked to had she not already had a husband. But should he marry some other woman, such as perhaps his secretary York, and have a child, he could send that one.

Pursuit,
Hermine warned.
Rocketship.

That was bad news, The rockets would be twice as fast as this craft. He had hoped for more leeway. But he had some advantages. He skimmed along the brink of the cliff, so that he seemed only meters aloft on the left, and a thousand meters on the right.

The rocket came up with horrifying ease and swiftness. The aircraft radio crackled on. “Blue wingcraft, turn about and land at field.”

Knot did not answer.
Will it attack us?

Not yet. You will gain more time by stalling, Mit says.

“This is the blue-wing craft,” Knot said, activating the radio according to Mit’s instructions. “I’m not sure I am able to turn.”

Soon he was enmeshed in a technical discussion of airplane control, as the rocket pilot tried to clarify for a seemingly stupid novice how to operate the controls for a safe turn.

“Get some elevation!” the rocket cried. “You’re about to crash into the cliff!”

“Elevation,” Knot agreed, and allowed the plane to dip lower.