The Iron Breed (51 page)

She could not find any pity, even when the thing turned its head a fraction and looked at her. For the consciousness within those eyes was coldly evil. Ayana recognized intelligence of a type so alien to all she believed in that it was like meeting black and deadly hatred formed into a repulsive body.

There was no way of telling how or why Shimog suffered. She could only guess that it was from some disease. But that might be native to this planet, or to the creature's own foul species. Certainly she had never seen such symptoms before.

“What can you do?” Tan demanded impatiently.

What? She had no idea. Except one. She had seen something out there she had recognized—a renewal chamber. If this Shimog was in the least responsive to what would act for humans, that might be the best hope.

“The renewal chamber. If the installation works—that might help.”

“A machine?” Oudu demanded. “You can run this machine?”

“I have seen directions for such,” she answered, careful not to make any promises to these small devils. “I would have to try it, to make sure that it was running properly, before we used it on your chief.”

“To do so then you must have an animal?” came the swift demand.

“But it will only work on one hurt—or ill.”

“We have what is needed.”

Oudu did not add to that, but he might have given some inaudible order, for most of those who had come with them scurried away.

Troubled, Ayana arose. “I must see the renewer—”

Free of that cubicle with its fetid odor, its aura of dark hate, she ran back to the glass-walled booth with the soft flooring. It was large enough to accommodate some twenty beings of Shimog's size, perhaps five humans.

She did not open the door, but went to the controls. Since she could not set for any particular disease, well, it would be full treatment. Yes, here were the symbols she had seen on the tapes. And a single finger press brought an answering spark of life—it worked! At least the power was still on. And—

Ayana whirled—those sounds!

Toward her—she wanted to be sick. Those they were dragging, crying, babbling. No—this was a deadly nightmare! Then her head rang as Tan slapped her hard across the face.

“Those are only animals, experimental animals, do you understand? Sure, the Rattons don't play pretty with their enemies but neither do the animals with Rattons!”

Ayana caught her tongue between her teeth, bit on it. Tan—was this Tan? Not her Tan but the one who had come alive since they had landed on this cursed world. For cursed it had to be!

The nightmare crew pulled, rolled those torn and mangled bodies into the renewal chamber, slammed the door.

“Get to it!” Tan's hands on her shoulders brought her about before the controls. “Prove it, one way or the other.”

She could not think straight—but she must. Those poor wrecks, perhaps she could give them merciful unconsciousness, death. Ayana sent the machine into humming life. She did not look into the chamber as she jerked the lever up to full power, hoping that would kill mercifully, quickly. Now she was disciplining her thoughts into some kind of coherent order.

She would never join Tan in his alliance with these Rattons—not ever! There was a point past which no thought of gain could carry one. And Ayana was there.

Therefore, if she was to get out of this venture alive, she would have to move before the Rattons realized that she was not their ally.

Tan had taken her stunner, but she had something else in her kit which could be a weapon. If she could get that in hand—

“This will take time.” She kept her voice level. “And Shimog—a sedative might help.”

“Give it to him then.”

Still not looking into the chamber, Ayana went back to the ailing leader. She brought out openly what she needed, charged it. Luckily Tan knew no more than the necessary medic first aid. Correct dosage of this meant nothing to him.

“I will give your leader”—she would not look to Oudu—“sleep that he may rest until the machine is proven.”

“Not so!” Oudu's harsh protest shook her, though she hoped not to open betrayal. “Prove no harm—Mog!”

One of the guard came forward.

“Prove on Mog.”

“Very well.” She held the injector to the Ratton's forearm, pressed the plunger.

He blinked, gave a little sigh, and crumpled to the floor. Oudu bent over him for a moment.

“Truth. Mog sleeps. Let Shimog also sleep.”

Ayana bent to that task. The easiest part of her plan was over. She screwed at the cap of the injector as if closing it. But instead she opened it to full. Now she held a weapon of a sort, one meant to handle perhaps even more than one difficult patient at a time, ones who could not be closely approached.

What she had used on Mog and Shimog had been but a small portion of the dosage with which she had charged this. The trouble now was the difference in height between her enemies—Tan so much the taller.

Because of his superior height and strength, she decided he must go first. Ayana arose, still watching Shimog, as if she wished to be sure of his condition. Then she turned swiftly, the injector ready.

Straight into Tan's face went that subduing spray. She had no time to see its efficacy as she went on to aim at the Rattons.

“You—you!” Tan's hands came at her. His fingers actually closed on her arm, then loosened as he went down. Around him the Rattons, bewildered by her attack, also wilted.

Ayana caught up her kit. She did not know how long they would be unconscious. By the time they recovered, she must be well away from here—perhaps even back to the ship, if that were possible. But before she left she had one more duty, to make sure those poor things in the chamber were safely dead, their suffering over.

Down one aisle, up the next, then she was at the chamber where the motor purred on. She looked in—

It was not possible!

With both hands flat against the glass Ayana watched something out of a wild dream. Lost, mangled limbs, mutilated bodies—they could not regrow—heal—in this fashion! She had turned the power to full force. Had she, in hopes for a swift death for the wreckage the Rattons had dragged there, done just the opposite—given them not only life, but healed such hurts as she had thought no living thing could long survive?

If—if this was happening as her eyes reported—then she could not go and leave them. Once the Rattons recovered, knew she was gone, then the vengeance they would take on these—! She would have condemned them to far worse torment.

But the changes, the healing, although already spectacular, would have to be complete, and how long dared she wait?

Ayana opened her kit. She had one more charge of the sedative, but it was less than the full one she had just used. Her only chance would be to keep watch on those she had left with Shimog. What if others came? Shimog was their leader. Would there not be visitors, a changing of guard?

Tan's weapons—the blaster—her stunner!

Ayana ran back. She rolled Tan over, plundered his belt of everything which could serve as a weapon. Then, as she passed that terribly stained table, she swept off the instruments, the things which had been used to maim and not repair.

Back before the chamber she piled up her strange assortment of armament. How long would she have to wait? Waiting was harder to face, she discovered, than open attack.

In the time which followed she prowled back and forth between the cubicle and the renewal chamber.

On her second visit to the cubicle she heard a scuttling and stood ready with the stunner.

Moments later five more Rattons were laid out with their fellows. But how long before someone took alarm and sent a larger force, perhaps one even a blaster could not rout? There was no hurrying the healing, but every time she checked the process, Ayana was amazed at what was happening. What wonders her ancestors had been able to do! But if they could produce such miracles of life, then what had brought about the death of this city, the flight of the First Ship?

The Rattons boasted that they had been the companion-aides of the men who had once lived and worked here. She knew that degeneration could cause awesome changes in both physical and mental states. But she did not believe that man and Ratton—Ratton? There was a familiar sound to that name—she frowned and began to search memory.

Those others, too, the animals—Once more she went to study them. There was still the teasing resemblance to Putti—If she could only remember!

“Ratton—” She repeated that name aloud. “Ratton—rat!”

Rat! A tape picture came to vivid life in her mind. Rat—a creature used in lab experiments! But those had been small! What had happened to bring a four-footed, small rat to the size of the erect-standing, intelligent Ratton? Had this been the result of experiments? But rats had been tools used by men, never his aides—unless something had gone wrong. If they could only learn the truth!

“Rat!” Ayana said again. The word was ugly, as ugly as the things it named. She looked once more to her patients. They lay as if asleep, but they breathed easily, mended steadily—if perhaps too slowly for all their future safety.

They were akin to the creatures Tan had recorded on the bridge. Then they had gone armed. It was apparent that they walked erect and were not animals. About them that elusive memory—Putti—but not really the soft-bodied plaything of childhood. More pictures on learning tapes? Ayana tried systematically to recall what she could of those. If the Rattons had been rats—then these must also have had another beginning.

Like a flash on a visa-screen, bright and sharply clear, she remembered at last.

Not Putti but cat!

“Cat!” Ayana called that name as if to awaken the sleepers.

Cats! So the Rattons had lied. For the cat on the ancient tapes had been truly a companion of man. So much so that his children had lovingly cherished their Puttis when they could not have the real creature to solace their wandering days.

Though these, in turn, were not cats of the past. Ayana could trace the likenesses, perhaps most in the heads with the stiffly whiskered faces, in the upstanding, pointed ears, and in the tails.

But one of the sleepers was again different—another species. She studied him now. There were no whiskers, though he was tailed. But the tail did not lie in as limber a way. His “face” had a longer muzzle, and his ears, larger, were in flaps.

The others were cats, or they had come from cats. But what was this one? Again Ayana returned to memory pictures. And she found what she sought—canine—dog! Again an old companion of man.

Cat-people, dog-people, still here in man's home carrying on war with Rattons. But where were the men? How long since they had disappeared? And why had they gone? Were the Rattons responsible? Ayana could hardly believe that. Even though those horrors might be able to muster whole armies, they could not have cleared out their masters, masters who were equipped with the weapons she knew existed here—the kind she had seen the cat-person wearing.

One of the patients stirred, opened his eyes. Large and green, they stared straight into hers. His ears flattened to his skull, he drew himself up against the wall of the chamber, his clawed hands coming up in menace.

He must believe she was one with the Rattons! But now they had a common cause. How could she explain? Unless by understanding where he was, what was happening, he would know—

The look in those green eyes, cold and measuring, daunted Ayana. She edged away from the window, decided it was time to check again on the sleepers. But this time went more slowly. If the cat-people, the dog-person, should turn on her, too—She could use the weapons, but if she did she would never learn the truth, perhaps never herself escape from this place in which the inhabitants apparently hunted each other with ferocious zeal.

Ayana stood looking down at Tan. When she left he would remain. So she must give him a chance. He was no longer one with her, if he had ever really been so, but he was one of her kind. And she believed that these filthy new allies of his would turn on him viciously when they discovered what had happened. She should return the stunner to him, give the rest of the sleepers an extra spray so they would still be under when his sedation wore off. In the meantime, she would try to prevent any more arrivals.

The door at the end of the hall had no locks that Ayana could understand. But she closed it and then piled there all the loose and heavy objects she could turn into a barricade.

When she had finished she stumbled back to the renewal chamber so tired she could barely urge one foot before the other. She had Extend pills, enough to renew her energy for the final dash out of here. But she would not waste those by premature use. There were E rations, one tube, in her belt loops. She turned the cap to heat and waited until she could twist that off and squeeze the semi-liquid contents into her mouth.

Having eaten, she went to look in the chamber. Time was passing far too fast, she might be pushed to a move soon.

Those inside were all conscious. The one cat-person who had first revived was standing. As she watched, he reached down to draw another up, a female, the scars of her wounds still rawly red but closed.

There was another male, and the dog-person, who, Ayana saw, had moved away from the other three, fitting his back into a corner as if he expected to be attacked.

There came a sudden sharp sound, enough to bring a weapon into Ayana's hand, set her looking about wildly. Then she realized that the light on the control board had gone out, the hum of the machine was subsiding. Apparently the chamber had turned itself off. Perhaps some indication that the work was done.