'Keep the suit on.'
'But-'
'Keep it on!' snapped Dumarest. 'If you want to act the fool then do it when I'm not around. What if the wind should change? A freak storm blow up?' His anger was genuine, relayed by his eyes, the tone of his voice. 'If you want to end our partnership just say the word. If not do as I say.'
A small battle and a victory won as Vardoon swung himself back to work. But there would be another and Dumarest took care he would win it. Before leaving the raft he checked one of the guns, slinging it over a shoulder. The other, Vardoon's, remained in the raft.
An hour before noon the wind changed, shifting to blow strongly from the north, carrying with it a harsh acridity which seared nostrils and doubled Vardoon in a fit of coughing. Twisting on his rope, he sealed his helmet, fed clean air from the tanks to flush out the poison. With streaming eyes he looked at Dumarest working to the right and below. At the peaks to the north. At something which moved in a blur of shimmering wings.
'Earl!'
Dumarest spun, bending his knees and ramming the soles of his boots against the rock. A stance which gave him enough stability to move his arms, to lift the gun in an instinctive reaction. The muzzle followed the darting shape.
A vrek-but a male.
A thing as beautiful as its mate but thicker, smaller, spined like a mythical dragon and keening like a nail drawn over slate. The sound of the wind thrumming past its wings, the protrusions. The sound of energy being generated for an obvious purpose.
'Down!' Dumarest tore at his own fastenings, freed them, dropped toward the raft. 'Hart, damn you! Down!'
He came like a rag doll, spinning, bumping, landing heavily, to snatch up the gun and lift it toward the vrek.
'No!' Dumarest swung his hand at the weapon. 'No, you fool!'
Fog engulfed them, a mist of swirling, darting particles suddenly illuminated by the snarling roar of the gun as Vardoon fired blindly into the milky cloud, composed of countless fragments of life; spawn vented by the male vrek to fertilize the deposited eggs. Gunfire returned by lightning.
The cloud split in a blue-green flash which threw Dumarest to one side, nerves jarred, muscles knotted. Another and he saw Vardoon standing wreathed in fire, coruscations which traced the metallic protection of his suit and limned the helmet spike with a scintillant halo. The gun glowed red, smoking as it fell to the deck. Dumarest snatched it up, threw it over the side, turned to slash at the holding ropes and, as they parted, sprang to the controls.
A moment and the raft was rising up through the settling cloud and into the clear sky, which was cut by the shimmer of the vrek now far distant, by the dark flecks of nearing rafts.
Chapter Eight
Vardoon groaned, coughed, groaned again. His eyes, bleared, looked at Dumarest through the opened helmet. As he moved to sit upright he winced.
'You were hit,' said Dumarest, anticipating the question. 'A bolt from the vrek. I warned you not to fire.'
'I tried to get it first,' Vardoon grunted as he leaned back against the side of the raft. 'I remember the flash but that's about all. I guess the suit saved me.'
'It did.'
'More proof that you're worth listening to.' Vardoon coughed again; smoke from burned insulation had irritated his lungs. 'Has it gone?'
'The vrek? Yes.'
'So let's get back to work.' Vardoon reared, swayed and clutched at Dumarest's shoulder to steady himself. His voice rose as he failed to see the hill. 'What's happening? Where the hell are we?'
'Heading north.' Dumarest returned to the controls. He said, 'Strip off the suit and dump it. Rafts are after us and we want all the speed and lift this thing can give us.'
His own suit had gone over the side together with everything else aside from the eggs and gun, clothes and his knife. Now, as Vardoon threw the seared weight of plastic and metal over the side, he said, 'How are they coming?'
'Close,' said Vardoon. 'Too damned close. One on our tail and two not far behind. Others to either side and the rear.' He counted. 'Two one side, three the other but one is lagging way back.'
'Why are they after us?'
'I explained all that. All this,' his hand gestured at the hills, 'is a part of someone's holding. Trespassers aren't wanted.'
'So they send an armada to catch us?'
'That's unusual,' admitted Vardoon. 'A patrol, maybe, but only one raft like we saw before. Even then they don't come out often. No one likes traversing the hills.'
Unless they had good reason to find someone among them. Dumarest sensed the closing jaws of a trap. Did the Cyclan have agents on this world? Did they know he was here?
'If they catch us,' he said, 'they'll take the eggs. You know that.'
'I know it.' Vardoon tightened his hands. 'I'll see them dead first. Earl, we've got to get away.'
Cooperation won, for what it was worth, but a faster raft would have been a greater asset. Dumarest nursed the controls, balancing what he had to gain the greatest advantage, knowing even as he worked it wasn't enough. The raft behind would soon draw level-even now they were an easy target should the men inside decide to open fire. And he had seen sunlight reflected from the barrels of guns.
And they were heading in the wrong direction.
Ahead lay nothing but the marching hills, the crevasses, the ragged expanses of shattered stone. Safety lay to the south and if he hoped to reach it they had to head for it soon.
'You there!' The voice boomed from a loud-hailer. 'Halt and hover or I'll burn you down!'
Chan Kline smiled as they did not obey. The search had been long, tiresome, and worrying toward the end when Zao had mentioned his disappointment that it was taking so long. Now he could enjoy the sweet taste of success, heightened by playing cat and mouse for a while. Let the fools run for a few more miles. They were helpless to escape.
'Shall I fire, sir?'
'No!' The man was a good marksman and could bring down the raft without touching its occupants but mistakes could always happen and Zao had made it clear that he would tolerate no mistakes. 'Let them run for a bit longer,' said Kline. 'I'll tell you when to shoot.'
Until then he could sit and dream of his promotion now firmly secure. A new house, extra servants, an extra wife, even. Irene was getting tiresome and needed to be put in her place. It was time she learned that the one who paid the bills dictated the service.
'Captain!' The observer didn't lower his binoculars as he spoke. 'Rafts ahead, sir.'
'Ours?'
'No, Captain. They bear the markings of the Maximus.'
'How many? Never mind!' Kline could count. He frowned as he searched the sky. Three and more rising from a point ahead where copper made flashing glints against the brown of stone. Others coming from either side. Numbers to more than equal his own. Rafts which bore men bearing guns. He swore as the ruby guide beam of a laser settled on his prow. 'The fools! What the hell are they doing?'
'Halt!' The command answered his question. 'Back away or I fire!'
'Captain?'
'Do as he says.' Kline snatched up his own loud-hailer as the driver obeyed. 'This is Captain Chan Kline. I have a commission to search this area. Full permission has been obtained from the Maximus.'
'By whom?'
'Cyber Zao.'
'When I see it I'll let you pass.'
