The Tomb (Repairman Jack)

drenching sweat. Kolabati's arms tightened around his neck and her body tensed against his back. The rakosh looked directly at Jack but gave no sign that it saw him or Kolabati. It veered off aimlessly in another direction.

It worked! The necklace worked! The rakosh had looked right at them and hadn't seen either of them!

Directly across from them, in the forward port corner of the hold, Jack saw an opening identical to the one in which they stood. He assumed it led to the forward hold. A steady stream of rakoshi of varying sizes wandered in and out of the passage.

'There's something wrong with these rakoshi,' Kolabati whispered over his shoulder and into his ear. 'They're so lazy-looking. So lethargic.'

You should have seen them last night, Jack wanted to say, remembering how Kusum had whipped them into a frenzy.

'And they're smaller than they should be,' she said. 'Paler, too.'

At seven feet tall and the color of night, the rakoshi were already bigger and darker than Jack wanted them.

An explosion of hissing, scuffling, and scraping snapped his attention to the right. Two rakoshi circled each other, baring their fangs, raking the air with their talons. Others gathered around, joining in the hissing. Looked like a brewing fight.

Suddenly one of Kolabati's arms tightened on his throat in a stranglehold as she pointed across the hold with the other.

'There!' she whispered. 'There's a true rakosh!'

Even though he knew he was invisible to the thing, Jack took an involuntary backward step. This one was huge, fully a foot taller and darker than the rest, moving with greater ease, greater determination.

'It's a female,' Kolabati said. 'That must be the one that hatched from our egg! The mother rakosh! control her and you control the nest!'

She seemed almost as awed and excited as terrified. Jack guessed it was part of her heritage. Hadn't she been raised to be what she called a 'Keeper of the Rakoshi'?

Jack looked again at the Mother. He found it hard to call her a female—nothing feminine about her, not even breasts, which probably meant that rakoshi didn’t suckle their young. She looked like a huge bodybuilder whose arms, legs, and torso had been stretched to grotesque lengths. Not an ounce of fat on her; each cord of her musculature could be seen rippling under her inky skin. Her face was the most alien, as if someone had taken a shark's head, shortened the snout, and moved the eyes slightly forward, leaving the fanged slash of a mouth almost unchanged. But the cold, remote gaze of the shark had been replaced by a soft pale glow of pure malevolence.

She even moved like a shark, gracefully, sinuously. The other rakoshi made way for the Mother, parting before her like mackerel before a great white. She headed directly for the two fighters, and when she reached them, pulled them apart and hurled them aside as if they weighed nothing. Her children meekly accepted the rough treatment.

He watched the Mother make a circuit of the chamber and return to the passage leading to the forward hold.

He looked around. How the hell do we get out of here?

Jack looked up toward the ceiling of the hold—actually the underside of the hatch cover, invisible in the dark. Had to get up there, to the deck. How?

He poked his head into the hold and scanned the slick walls for a ladder. None. But there, at the top of the starboard aft corner of the hold—the elevator. If he could bring that down....

But to do that he would have to enter the hold and cross its width.

The thought was paralyzing. To walk among them...

Every minute he delayed getting off this ship increased his danger, yet a primal revulsion held him back. Something within him preferred to crouch here and wait for death rather than venture into the hold.

He fought against it, not with reason but with anger. He was in charge here, not some instinctive loathing.

'Hold on,' he whispered.

He stepped out of the corridor and into the hold.

He moved slowly, with the utmost care and caution. Most of the rakoshi were caliginous lumps scattered across the floor. He had to step over some of the sleeping ones and wind his way between the alert ones. Although his sneakered feet made no sound, occasionally a head would lift and look around as they passed. Jack could barely make out the details of their faces and would not know a puzzled rakoshi expression if he saw one, but they had to be confused. They sensed a presence yet their eyes told them nothing was there.

He could sense their pure, naked aggression, their immaculate evil. No pretense about their savagery—it was all on the surface, surrounding them like an aura.

Jack still felt his heart trip and fumble a beat every time one of the creatures turned its yellow eyes his way. His mind still resisted complete acceptance of the fact that he was invisible to them.

The reek of the things thickened as he wound his way across the floor. They must have looked a comical pair, tiptoeing piggyback through the dark. Laughable except for their precarious position: One wrong move and they’d be torn to shreds.

If negotiating a path through the recumbent rakoshi was harrowing, dodging the wandering ones was utterly nerve-wracking. Jack had little or no warning as to when they’d appear. They’d loom out of the shadows and pass within inches, some pausing, some even stopping to look around, sensing humans but not seeing them.

He was three quarters of the way across the hold when a seven-foot shadow suddenly rose from the floor and stepped toward him. Jack had nowhere to go. Dark forms reclined on either side and the space where he stood between them would not allow a rakosh to pass. Instinctively he jerked back—and began to lose his balance. Kolabati must have sensed this for she pressed her weight rigidly against his spine.