Away Games: Science Fiction Sports Stories (21 page)

“Now what?” asked Ramona, dirty and on the verge of physical collapse.

“Now we burn everything, bury any remaining dried blood, and then we move into the ship,” I said.

“And just wait to be rescued?”

I shook my head. “It could be weeks, even a month, before a rescue party arrives. We’re going to need meat, and since we’ve no way to refrigerate it with the galley destroyed, it means we’ll probably have to go hunting every day, or at least every other day.”

“I see,” she said.

“And I’m going to kill the Snark,” I said.

“Why don’t we just wait for the rescue party and not take any chances?” suggested Ramona fearfully.

“It’s killed thirteen beings who were under my protection,” I said grimly. “I’m going to kill him if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Maybe Philemon should give you his laser rifle,” Ramona suggested. “He’s not very good with it anyway.”

Desmond glared at her, but made no reply.

“He may need it,” I said. “Besides, I’m happy with my own weapon.”

“Where will you hunt for it?” asked Pollard.

“Right in this general area,” I answered. “He has no reason to leave it.”

“We can’t just sit around like bait and wait for him!” whined Desmond. “In all the time we’ve been on the planet you’ve never even seen him but he’s killed Marx and Mbele and our Dabihs. He comes into camp whenever he wants! He sabotages our t-packs and our ship! We’ll need an army to kill him!”

“If he comes back, you’ll be safe inside the ship,” I said.

“Locking himself in the ship didn’t help Captain Mbele,” noted Ramona.

“He didn’t close the hatch. As I read the signs, he saw what was happening and raced into the ship for a gun. The Snark caught him before he found it.” I paused. “He knew better than to be out here without a weapon.”

“So now it’s
his
fault that this monster killed him?” shouted Desmond. “Let’s not blame the hunter who fucked up! Let’s blame the victim!”

That’s when I lost it. “One more word out of you and there’ll be another killing!” I shouted back at him.

Pollard stepped between us. “Stop it!” he snapped. “The creature’s out there! Don’t do his work for him!”

We both calmed down after that, and finally went into the ship. There was no food, but everyone was so physically and emotionally exhausted that it didn’t matter. Half an hour later we were all sound asleep.

• • •

Each morning Chajinka and I walked across the scorched, empty field that had so recently been covered with vegetation. We would climb into the safari vehicle and prepare to go out to bag the day’s food—and even though there was no longer any place to hide near the ship, I constantly had the uneasy feeling that
he
was watching us, measuring our strength, biding his time.

We never went more than four miles from camp. I didn’t shoot the choicest animals, just the closest. Then we’d cut off the strips of meat we thought we’d need and leave the carcass for the scavengers. We’d return to camp, and after breakfast we’d set out on foot to look for signs of the Snark.

I knew he was nearby, knew it as surely as I knew my own name, but we couldn’t find any physical sign of him. I warned the others not to leave the ship without their weapons, preferably not to leave it at all, and under no circumstance were they to go more than thirty yards away from it unless they were in my company.

By the fifth day after the massacre everyone was getting tired of red meat, so I decided to take Chajinka down to the river, and see if we could spear a few fish.

“Can I come with you?” asked Ramona, appearing just inside the hatch. “I’m starting to feel distinctly claustrophobic.”

I couldn’t see any reason why not. Hell, she was safer with Chajinka and me than back at the ship.

“Bring your rifle,” I said.

She disappeared inside the ship, then emerged with a laser rifle a moment later.

“I’m ready.”

“Let’s go,” I said.

We marched through heavy bush to the river.

“All the local animals must come down here to drink,” noted Ramona. “Wouldn’t it be easier to do your hunting right here rather than go out in the safari vehicle each morning?”

“We’d attract too many scavengers,” I explained. “And since Chajinka and I come down here twice a day to bring water back to the ship, why cause ourselves any problems?”

“I see.” She paused. “Are there any carnivores in the river—the kind that might eat a human?”

“I haven’t seen any,” I replied. “But I sure as hell wouldn’t recommend taking a swim.”

When we reached the river, Chajinka grabbed a large branch and beat the water. When he was sure it was safe, he waded out, thigh-deep, and held his spear above his head, poised to strike, while we watched him in total silence. He stayed motionless for almost two full minutes, then suddenly stabbed the water and came away with a large, wriggling fish.

He grinned and said something that I couldn’t understand, then clambered onto the bank, picked up a rock, and smashed it down on the fish’s head. It stopped moving, and he went back into the water.

“Two more and we’ll have our dinner,” I remarked.

“He’s really something,” she said. “Where did you find him?”

“I inherited him.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He was the tracker for the hunter I apprenticed under,” I explained. “When he retired, he left me his client list and Chajinka.”

Suddenly there was a yell of triumph from Chajinka. He held up his spear, and there was a huge fish, maybe 25 pounds, squirming at the end of it. The Dabih himself didn’t weigh much more than 85 pounds, the current was strong and the footing was slippery. Suddenly he fell over backward and vanished beneath the surface of the water.

He emerged again a second later, but without the spear and the fish. I saw them floating downstream a good ten yards from him. There was no sense telling him where to look; he couldn’t understand a word I said without a t-pack. So I waded into the water and went after the spear myself. It became chest-deep very quickly, and I had to fight the current, but I finally reached the spear and waded back to shore. Chajinka climbed out a moment later with an embarrassed grin on his face. He made another incomprehensible comment, then brained the fish as he had done with the first one.

“See?” I said sardonically. “Even fishing can be exciting with you’re on safari.”

There was no answer. I spun around. Ramona Desmond was nowhere to be seen.

• • •

So the Snark pronounced sentence, the Judge being quite

Too nervous to utter a word.

When it rose to its feet, there was silence like night,

And the fall of a pin might be heard.

• • •

I squatted down next to her corpse. There was no blood; he’d noiselessly broken her neck and left her where she’d fallen.

“He was watching us the whole time,” I said furiously. “He waited until she was alone, then grabbed her and pulled her into the bush.” A chilling thought occurred to me. “I wonder who’s hunting who?”

Chajinka muttered something incomprehensible.

“All right,” I said at last. “Let’s take her back to camp.”

I lifted Ramona’s body to my shoulder and signaled him to follow me.

Desmond raced out of the ship when he saw us. He began flagellating himself and pulling tufts of his hair out, screaming nonsense words at the top of his lungs.

“What the hell is happening?” asked Pollard, clambering out through the hatch. Then he saw the body. He had to work to keep his voice under control. “Oh, Jesus! Oh, Jesus!” he kept repeating. When he’d finally calmed down, he said, “It’s more than an animal! It’s like some vengeful alien god come to life!”

Chajinka went into the cargo hold and emerged with a shovel.

Pollard stared at Desmond, who was still raving. “I’ll help with the grave.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I think I’d better get Desmond to his cabin and give him a sedative.”

I walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.

“It was
your
fault!” he screamed. “
You
were supposed to protect her and you let it kill her!”

I couldn’t deny it, so I just kept urging him gently toward the ship.

And then, between one second and the next, he snapped. I could see it in his face. His eyes went wide, the muscles in his jaw began twitching, even the tenor of his voice changed.

“That thing is going to learn what it means to kill the wife of the most powerful man on Far London!” He looked off into the bush and hollered: “I’m Philemon Desmond, goddammit, and I’m through being terrified by some ignorant fucking beast! Do you hear me? It’s over! You’re dead meat!”

“Come on, Mr. Desmond,” I said softly, pushing him toward the ship.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, and I could tell that he really didn’t recognize me.

I was about to humor him with an answer when everything went black and the ground came up to meet me.

• • •

And the Banker, inspired with a courage so new

It was a matter for general remark,

Rushed madly ahead and was lost to their view

In his zeal to discover the Snark.

• • •

Pollard sloshed some water on my face. I gasped for breath, then sat up and put a hand to my head. It came away covered with blood.

“Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling down next to me, and I saw that Chajinka was behind him.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “We were just starting to dig the grave when I heard Desmond suddenly stop gibbering. Then he whacked you on the head with something, and ran off.”

“I never saw it coming,” I groaned, blinking my eyes furiously. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know.” He pointed to the southwest. “That way, I think.”

“Shit!”
I said. “The Snark is still in the area!”

I tried to get to my feet, but was overwhelmed by pain and dizziness, and sat back down, hard.

“Take it easy,” he said. “You’ve probably got a hell of a concussion. Where’s the first aid kit? Maybe I can at least stop the bleeding.”

I told him where to find it, then concentrated on trying to focus my eyes.

When Pollard returned and began working on my head, I asked, “Did you see if he at least took his laser rifle with him?”

“If he didn’t have it when he hit you, he didn’t stop to get it.”

“Goddammit!”

“I guess that means he doesn’t have it.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered, wincing as he did something to the back of my head. “So he’s unarmed, running through the bush, and screaming at the top of his lungs.”

“All done,” said Pollard, standing up. “It’s not a pretty job, but at least the bleeding’s stopped. How do you feel?”

“Groggy,” I said. “Help me up.”

Once I was on my feet, I looked around. “Where’s my rifle?”

“Right here,” said Pollard, picking it up and handing it to me. “But you’re in no shape to go after Desmond.”

“I’m not going after Desmond,” I mumbled. “I’m going after
him
!” I signaled Chajinka to join me and set off unsteadily to the southwest. “Lock yourself in the ship.”

“I’ll finish burying Ramona first.”

“Don’t!”

“But—”

“Unless you’re prepared to fend him off with a shovel if he shows up, do what I said.”

“I can’t leave her body out for the scavengers,” Pollard protested.

“Take her with you. Spray her with the preservatives we use for trophies and stash her in the cargo hold. We’ll bury her when I get back.”

“
If
you get back,” he corrected me. “You look like you can barely stand on your feet.”

“I’ll be back,” I promised him. “I’m still a hunter, and he’s still just an animal.”

“Yeah—he’s just an animal. That’s why there’s just you, me and Chajinka left alive.”

• • •

Desmond didn’t get very far—not that I ever expected him to. We found him half a mile away, his skull crushed. I carried him back to camp and buried him next to his wife.

“That bastard’s been one step ahead of us from the start,” said Pollard bitterly as we sat down next to the ship and slaked our thirst with some lukewarm water. Chajinka sat a few yards away, motionless as a statue, watching and listening for any sign of the Snark.

“He’s smarter than I thought,” I admitted. “Or luckier.”

“Nothing is that lucky,” said Pollard. “He must be intelligent.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

Pollard’s eyes went wide. “Wait a minute!” he said sharply. “If you
knew
he was intelligent, what the hell were we doing hunting him in the first place?”

“There’s a difference between intelligence and sentience,” I said. “We know he’s intelligent. We don’t know that he’s sentient.”

He looked puzzled. “I thought they were the same thing.”

I shook my head. “Back on Earth, chimpanzees were intelligent enough to create crude tools, and to pass that knowledge on from one generation to the next—but no one ever claimed they were sentient. The fact that the Snark can hide his trail, spot my traps and elude us makes him intelligent. It doesn’t make him sentient.”

“On the other hand, it doesn’t prove he’s
not
sentient,” said Pollard stubbornly.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“So what do we do?”

“We kill him,” I answered.

“Even if he’s sentient?”

“What do you do when someone murders fifteen sentient beings?” I said. “If he’s a Man, you execute him. If he’s an animal, you track him down and kill him. Either way, the result is the same.”

“All right,” said Pollard dubiously. “We kill him. How?”

“We leave the ship and go after him.”

“Why?” he demanded. “We’re safe in the ship!”

“Tell that to Mbele and the Desmonds and the Dabihs,” I shot back. “As long as we stay here, he knows where we are and we don’t know where
he
is. That means he’s the hunter and we’re the prey. If we leave camp and pick up his trail before he picks up ours, we go back to being the hunters again.” I got to my feet. “In fact, the sooner we start, the better.”

He wasn’t happy about it, but he had no choice but to come along, since the alternative was to remain behind alone. After we loaded the vehicle I patted the hood, waited for Chajinka to jump onto it, and then we drove to the spot where we’d found Desmond’s body.