Sandcats of Rhyl (15 page)

“I am fine. I am better than I have ever been in my life. I
see!
But how can I describe this to you, you who cannot
see?
” He turned and looked directly at the black, blank wall, his eyes focusing at infinity. “See?
See
the flow of history there! Isn’t it marvelous? And I can shape it, mold it to my whim!”

Slayton turned back to Dhal. Holding the scepter in front of him, he said, a new timber to his voice, “No, you don’t
see.
The entire universe is mine to command. You doubt me. I can tell.”

He’s gone mad!

“No, Dhal, I haven’t gone mad. If anything, I have conquered madness and gone beyond such identifications. Whatever I choose to do is proper because
I
so choose!”

Mad!… How do I stop him and … scepter … get
scepter … steal it … jewels … worth a fortune!

“What a pitiful thing you are, Dhal. I tell you I am not mad. And this scepter is not a mere trinket. I
see
that now. It is more than you could even conceive of! It is the key to the universe.”

“Uh, sure, Slayton, sure. Whatever you say. Look, we can find other stuff. I’ll take my share out of that. You … you keep the scepter if you like it.”

The blaster … cut his legs from under him … steal scepter!

“Stop!” commanded Slayton, his voice ringing in the enclosure. “Do not raise your weapon.”

“Lane! I wasn’t. Honest, I wasn’t going to try anything like that. Let’s … let’s get out of here. The sandcats!”

Slayton closed his eyes for a moment and detected nothing but Dhal’s trapped-rat thoughts. His cold eyes stared remorselessly at Dhal. “There are no sandcats near.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know. I know many things. You hid the computer interface from Nightwind’s aircar inside the reactant chamber of their vehicle. If they attempted to start the engines, it would be destroyed.”

“How … I never told you that!”

Kill him fast … must … jewels … fortune … kill before…

“I can read your thoughts as easily as you can speak, Dhal. It is no longer possible to hide your innermost being from me. Your deepest thoughts are open to me like the pages of a book, a musty, ancient book filled with unspeakable things. You have never mentioned to anyone what you did to that poor woman on board the starliner,
Gazoz.
She lived for two months before you dumped her lifeless husk out the airlock.”

Dhal’s mouth dropped open.

He can’t … it’s not possible!

“Yes, weak one, it is possible, and I can read your every thought. It is no longer possible for you to lie to me. And I see nothing but dark deception buried in that filthy pit you call a mind. Cleansing by fire is the only possible way of removing such a blight.”

Kill!

Dhal’s forehead beaded with sweat. The muscles on his forearm bulged as he strained to bring up his blaster and fire. Teeth grinding, exerting the supreme effort, he found himself pitted against a force far greater than any human could bear. His eyes widened as Slayton reached down and picked up the fallen blasterifle.

“Lane! Please!”

No!… NO!

“Yes, Dahl, the end is now!” Slayton, clutching the scepter in one hand the blasterifle in the other, fired. The coruscating river of energy washed over Dhal, reducing him to his constituent atoms. Only a pile of ash remained where once a human stood.

The mental pressure lessened. Slayton studied the remnants of his companion’s body, power flooding through his body. He replayed each and every time he had killed in his life. The power built to superhuman levels inside.

With the scepter, he was more than human, more than any man.

Lane Slayton was a god.

Nightwind managed to push hard enough against the wall of the pit to get his feet under him. He stood facing the sandcat, his hands painfully tied behind his back. There was no way he could possibly fight this mighty creature. The sandcat outweighed him by six or eight times. It was obviously stronger; even unconscious, the bunches of muscles under the sleek fur were apparent. The beast might even move faster. Nightwind was quick and his reflexes lightning fast — for a human. Faced with a true felinoid, he might be moving through molasses in camparison.

“Rod, what …” Heuser stirred. His thin chest rose and fell as he regained the breath knocked out of him by the fall.

“Heuser! Your hands are tied. Break the ropes!”

“Huh?” The cyborg shook his head, then cringed as if he felt nuts and bolts rolling around loose inside.

“Please! If you can,” begged Steorra. “The sandcat! It’ll … it’s waking up!”

Heuser sat up and saw their predicament. His shoulder muscles expanded the desert suit to the breaking point, but the ropes split before the suit. Heuser rolled over and quickly snapped the bindings on Nightwind’s wrists. He hesitated, however, when he saw Steorra.

“What about her, Rod?”

“Do it!” bellowed Nightwind as he rubbed his wrists trying to get circulation back. “She’s in this with us, whether she likes it or not.”

“Behind you! The ‘cat!” cried Steorra, her eyes wide with horror.

Heuser turned and faced the animal, now stretching its muscles. A hissing noise came from deep in its throat. The blaster burn he’d given it didn’t appear to hamper the animal’s actions in the least. It stretched out first one leg, then another. To the surprise of the humans watching, two small limbs were extended, tendrillike fingers wriggling. The animal was going through the same motions as Nightwind and Steorra.

When its eyes focused, there was nothing but ice in the stare. Nightwind was no expert on alien psychology, but it seemed to him this creature was intent on killing them. If it possessed any intelligence at all, it would eliminate them quickly. Hadn’t they tried to kill it? Hadn’t they — or Slayton and Dhal — killed others of its number? Death was the only possible result from this confrontation.

“I’ll handle this, Rod. Stand back,” said Heuser. The little man stepped forward, his arms extended, hands ready to grapple. He looked ludicrous, a fly attacking the swatter.

“Help him! He’ll be killed!” Steorra pulled at Nightwind’s arm. Seeing he wasn’t going to aid his friend, she tried to move to the far side of the pit. She called, “I’ll get the ‘cat from this side!”

“No you won’t!” Nightwind’s grip on her arm tightened. “Let him handle this. Neither of us is anywhere near as strong as that ‘cat. Heuser stands some sort of chance, at least.”

“Him? You’re bigger than he is. You had to help him before — on the ship. Help him now or I will!”

“I said to stay put.”

The sandcat leaped. Heuser moved with fluid motion to one side, reaching out and encircling the animal’s neck with his arms. He put all the power of his artificial arms into strangling the ‘cat. His biceps expanded twice their normal size; his shoulders grew in width as Nightwind watched the titanic battle, helpless.

The sandcat’s neck was thick and powerful. It tossed its head and sent Heuser tumbling. He regained his feet, dived and snared one of the ‘cat’s front legs. Twisting, he tried to throw the beast to the floor of the pit. The tactic failed when the sandcat jumped and wrapped all six of its limbs around the cyborg’s body. Staggered, Heuser fought to retain his balance.

And failed. As the pair went down in a heap, Nightwind could see the tiny fingers ripping and tearing at Heuser’s back. The sandcat didn’t have claws; the tiny fingers were more than adequate for rending.

Heuser uttered a low, deep-throated noise and heaved. The sandcat somersaulted over his head. But, cat-swift, it was back and attacking before Heuser regained his feet. This time, there was no question as to the outcome. The sandcat drove into Heuser with impressive force. The cyborg grunted, grabbed his back, and then collapsed, unconscious.

“So much for that,” muttered Nightwind. “Look, I don’t think the two of us have a chance, but we’ve got to try. You circle right, I’ll go left. You try to get to Heuser. Revive him. He’s our ticket out of here. I’ll decoy the sandcat. But don’t count on it being occupied for long.”

Nightwind shoved and sent Steorra staggering. He waved his arm and moved in the opposite direction, the sandcat’s eyes following him.

For long moments, the two stood facing each other. Cold, space-black human eyes stared into equally cold amber cat eyes.

Not…

Nightwind hesitated. He was ready to launch himself against this fleshy engine of destruction when the light touch seemed to brush across his brain.

Not kill…

“What’s happening?” cried Steorra, kneeling beside Heuser. “Why isn’t it attacking?”

“Quiet! … I don’t know. I’m feeling something. ESP, telepathy, I don’t know. But it’s like the sandcat’s in my head.”

Different … you … unlike human … people?

Nightwind’s head felt like a rotten melon ready to split. The sandcat was forcing its thoughts into his mind. He leaned back against the wall of the pit for support. His legs were weak and watery. The strain he was under increased. No longer was he frightened of the sandcat. Now he was struggling with himself. Barriers he hadn’t even known existed were being ripped apart. Nightwind tried to lower his mental defenses, let the sandcat in, communicate. It was the only way any of them would get out of the pit alive.

You human?

“Yes,” Nightwind said. Concentrating, he asked, speaking slowly, keeping his thoughts simple, “Understand what I am saying?”

Yes…

Nightwind rapidly said, “I’m in feeble contact with the sandcat. It’s telepathy, I suppose. I … I’ve got to speak to keep my thoughts flowing right so just listen in on my end of the talk. But don’t interrupt. This is no time for a goof.”

Hurt…

“Yes, I know. May I help you?”

Leg … belly … finger … come…

Nightwind slowly approached the sandcat. The hissing deep in the animal’s throat increased in volume, but Nightwind tried to ignore it. He was actually in mental contact with this massive beast. There must be nothing to spoil the communication. He gently examined the blaster burns on the sandcat’s chest. The leg appeared unbroken. The same couldn’t be said of the small hand with fingers tipped in a hard, chitinous substance. One of the fingers was obviously broken.

“I am unskilled, but I will try to help. Do you understand? I do not want to hurt you, but you might feel pain.”

Yes…

“Your leg is okay. The burns are mild. I will try to help your finger.” He fought to bring himself around to thinking of the sandcat’s appendage as a finger. It was jointed in four places, one of the joints appearing to be a universal joint. He pulled the finger straight, then took the stiff filter mask from his desert suit. He made a cylinder out of the plastic and inserted the finger into the tube. He bound the injured finger to the ones immediately adjacent with a strand of the rope used to bind their wrists. He studied his work and decided it was the best he could do in this circumstance.

“Don’t move the fingers. We can help more if we get out. Can you help us get out?”

“Rod!” protested Heuser, regaining his feet.

“Quiet.” To the sandcat, he repeated, “Will you help us get out of this pit?”

You human?… not blanks like others…

“I can’t explain it. Perhaps we’re closer genetically. I have a few feline genes in my family tree.”

Tree?… mind picture … green?… rough?

“A reference point you don’t have. I have ancestors like yourself.” It wasn’t strictly true but the explanation was close enough.

The sandcat seemed satisfied with this. It slipped to the floor, crossed its paws and rested a furry chin on the junction. Nightwind could barely catch one mind image in ten as the sandcat rapidly thought out its problem.

He was certain the animal was considering the possibilites of the situation. It was trapped with three humans, enemies from their first landing on the planet. Yet, without them, it couldn’t hope to escape the pit. And one claimed kinship. Nightwind tried to reinforce every thought of kinship and promise of aid. Many of the images were totally alien to him.

Finally, the sandcat looked up at Nightwind, its amber eyes glowing.

Guardian…

“Your name is Guardian? Or is this a title or rank?”
Yes…

“So much for that. I am Nightwind.” He formed a picture of himself combined with gale force winds blowing across the desert at night.

Strong … good … not fear desert like xxxx…

“Yes.” Nightwind wiped away the sweat beading his forehead. He hadn’t realized he was under such strain. He was missing certain thoughts. They came through garbled and indistinct. But as long as he concentrated, he could get the general idea of the sandcat’s thoughts.

To Heuser and Steorra, he said, “The sandcat’s name or rank — or both — is Guardian. And I’ve convinced it I’m one of the good guys. I can’t keep this up for long. I feel like I’ve been run through an inverter and come out anti-matter.”

Kill?

“NO! They’re friends! Good friends!”

Other … in Ancient Place … kill?

Nightwind didn’t even answer. He could form the feelings toward Dhal and Slayton too easily to need to voice them.

Good … they kill many … Guardian kill.

“And we’ll help you. If we can get out of here.”

Heuser said, “You make that sound like it’s almost possible, Rod. Have you checked out these walls? They’re sheer and smooth. Even if your furry friend doesn’t eat us for supper, I don’t see any way of getting out of here.”

Steorra was silent. She appeared to be in a daze.

Nightwind said, “We’ll try to work something out. There has to be a way out if we all cooperate.”

Out … soon … must return soon … duty to Old Ones … Ancient Place not to be destroyed!

Lane Slayton held the scepter high, letting its eerie light bathe him. The very photons seemed to give him strength, courage, vitality. The stench of burned human flesh mingled with the fragrances wafting on the unseen breeze through the palace. Slayton willed the unpleasant odors away.