Thousandstar (#4 of the Cluster series) (19 page)

Heem was now alone with the dread Squam. But Slitherfear was not paying attention to him. Laboriously, Heem rolled into the cave, trying to hide, his burned skin hurting and leaking.

There was machinery inside the cave. Heem had no notion what it was for or how it operated, but it was all associated with Slitherfear, and therefore was cold and hideous.

Somehow the Squam used this equipment, as the HydrOs had learned to use the flatfloaters. Therefore, destroying this machinery might be like shooting down a floater. If he only had some way—

Heem fought back the pain of his burn. His jet-pores remained functional, and his internal system was strong; his injury was after all superficial. He could do something—if he could only figure out what. Before Slitherfear returned to his cave, forcing Heem to fight for his life.

Heem jetted softly, rolling slowly, exploring the situation with the caution of fear and ignorance. He knew so little about this stuff. Would a sharp needlejet in the right place have an effect? Or would it be better simply to push an item over?

Experimentally he needled a crevice. Nothing happened.

He rolled to the side, found another crevice, and needled again. Still nothing. There were irregularities all around the machine, but its cold metal was like the Squam's overlapping scales, proof against mere jets of water.

Then another taste wafted in to him. He recognized it instantly, from his prior experience with the Squam, when Hoom died.
Slitherfear was eating.

And the only body the monster had to eat was Moon of Morningmist.

Heem forgot his physical pain. He jetted forward with such force that he crashed into the machine and knocked it over. It crashed on the ground, emitting sparks of energy. But Heem was beyond it, caroming toward the Squam, heedless of any consequence.

Slitherfear had extruded his stomach to consume Moon. He could not react with his usual speed. Heem rolled in, oriented, and struck with his sharpest, hottest needle, right at that extruded tissue. There were no scales to protect this organ! Again and again he lanced into that vulnerable material, holing it, cooking it, cutting it to pieces.

Then, before the dread Squam could recover, Heem rolled away. Slitherfear was not dead, only injured, as Heem was. The weapon jetted its disaster at Heem, but scored only peripherally. It must be hard, Heem thought with a certain grim satisfaction, to concentrate on a fleeing target when one's innards have been shredded.

So he escaped. He rolled into the swamp, letting the water cool his burns. He was fortunate; they were not serious. They would heal.

A day later Meen found him. "I am sorry, Heem," she jetted. "I tried to turn the flatfloater, but—"

"I know. The thing bolted. At least it carried you out of danger."

"I feared you were dead. I tasted your fall—"

"My floater took the brunt. I was only burned and stunned."

"My sister Moon—"

"Dead. I attacked Slitherfear while he was eating her. I did not kill him, but he will not eat soon again. Muun was also hit; what became of her?"

"I found her body this morning. The burn was too much; she rolled off her floater and died."

What devastation, from that brief encounter! The Squam had killed two, injured one, and driven away the floater of the last. How could they kill it?

Meen suffered grief for her sisters. But soon the deeper implication came to her. "The valley of Morningmist is now vacant," she sprayed. "We must seed it."

Not again! "I will not seed after the misery I experienced in these two valleys," Heem needled. "My siblings dead, yours also—"

"But it is the HydrO way!"

"It is not
my
way! I have another mission: to abate the menace of the Squam, the evil thing who slew my brother, your sisters, and my love."

"We tried to kill Slitherfear—and lost all but us two. He is too strong for us."

Probably true. Yet Heem could not give up. "I shall find out how to kill him. Maybe he will die from the injury I did him. If not, I will find another way."

"But first we must seed the valley!" Meen was as single-minded about this as Moon had been.

"No! Not now, not ever!"

"Then I must go over the mountain into Highfalls. Perhaps your brother survives, and he and I can seed that valley." And she rolled away to find her flatfloater.

She did not return, somewhat to Heem's relief. Had he seeded with anyone, he would have preferred Moon; her cruel death rendered him desolate. Now he intended to achieve revenge. It was all that was left.

He studied Slitherfear from the concealment of the swamp. The Squam was sound-oriented, not taste-oriented, so could not detect him if he remained quite still. It was easy to stay still while his burns healed. Since Heem was taste-oriented, the air brought him constant news of his enemy's activity. So he had an advantage. For the moment.

Slitherfear had been wounded, no doubt about it. He moved awkwardly, and had not eaten further of Moon's body. Even so, there was a certain sinister grace about him. His metallic scales overlapped, allowing his body to flex. He moved by pressing against objects and irregularities in the ground. He unfolded his three limbs only when he had use for them: moving some object, operating his machinery, clipping sections from plants.

Why would any creature want to clip sections from plants and run them through machines? Did the machines need to eat too? Strange, morbid mystery!

'Obviously surveying the vegetation, among other things. Taking samples, analyzing them, classifying and storing the information. Environmental impact study, perhaps—'

When the Squam was moving, he was sealed in his scales, invulnerable. But when he brought his limbs out, the grooves where they had been lacked scales. What would a needle of water do right in one of those joints or crevices?

The Squam could hear when its limbs were put away. Heem had some understanding of hearing; it was a refinement of his own awareness of vibration. A shudder in the ground or air that he could detect at close range, the Squam could detect at distant range. The sense seemed quite crude when compared to taste as a primary mode of perception. How could the flavor of one individual of a species be distinguished from another? How could mere vibration be adapted to communication? No wonder the Squam depended on machines to generate taste!

Did it hear all over its body, as Heem did, feeling the vibration in its skin? But Heem's body was soft and sensitive, while the Squam's was hard. So probably the creature had a specialized sensor, a point receptor. If Heem could locate that, and strike it with a needlejet, perhaps a hot one—

Here, Heem was forced to admit, the perception of taste was less than ideal. Through taste he could analyze the nature of things carefully, even when the things had departed from the locale. But it was extremely difficult to pinpoint something. For that, he would have to approach and bounce an analytic needlejet off it, reading the changes the subject wrought. He hardly dared come that close to Slitherfear!

Yet there were indications. The Squam normally folded his arms for traveling—but not always. Once when he traveled toward the cave, folded, a vibration had come from the swamp, as of a flatfloater dropping to the water. Immediately Slitherfear had paused, lifted his foresegment, unfolded all three arms—

'How did you know it was three, not two or one arm? You could not see them.'

He knew because of the variations in the taste pattern carried by the wind. A single obstruction had a typical configuration of taste; two had another, and three another. This had matched the three-configuration perfectly, and the typical taste of the Squam's interior-space, stronger than the flavor of the external scales had come—

'You could determine that sort of detail from taste alone?'

Yes, he could—once he had thoroughly familiarized himself with the nature of the Squam. Heem had had many days in the swamp, lying quite still, healing his body, with no distraction save his study of that monster. He had become highly attuned to the nature of his enemy—an attunement that had enabled him to deal with Squams much better, later in life. Very few HydrOs ever had an opportunity to study any Squam in such detail, and fewer yet ever availed themselves of it when that opportunity came. Because HydrOs were afraid of Squams, and avoided them whenever possible.

So now he knew the Squam could hear while folded and traveling, but not well. For full definition it had to pause and open out its arms, becoming vulnerable. That was an important piece of information.

So the organs of hearing were in the arms, or in the grooves the arms covered. Those organs had to be vulnerable, otherwise they would have been situated more conveniently for use while traveling. A needlejet could probably damage them. And a deaf Squam would be like a tasteless HydrO: virtually helpless.

Slitherfear's typical taste had changed. There was the flavor of stomach about him, emanating from the aperture where he extruded his innards to digest his prey. That aperture was at the end of his snout, his foremost extremity; normally closed, it now periodically emitted bursts of taste. Another aperture at the rearmost extremity excreted decomposed material.

How, then, should Heem attack? For there was no question of fleeing; he intended to kill the foul Squam, even if that effort cost Heem his own life. His burned skin had sloughed off and healed in these past days; soon he would be back in full health. Then—

Then Slitherfear readied a machine that had the aspect of a flatfloater. It jetted massively, clouds of mechanical gas tasting faintly of combustion.

A flatfloater machine? That must mean the Squam planned to ride it—and depart the valley. Because he had run out of HydrO prey, or his business here was finished, or his injury in the stomach was causing him to starve. Whatever his reason, his departure would mean a reprieve from Heem's vengeance. Heem had to roll now.

The Squam was just sliding onto the floater. Heem rolled forward violently, jetting as hard as he could, using the full accumulation of water he had amassed while recuperating. He wanted to arrive before Slitherfear unfolded his three arms. But the Squam heard him, sound traveling faster than taste, and snapped open as Heem arrived.

They collided. They were of similar mass, and Heem's impetus shoved the Squam partly off the floater. One tri-formed pincer closed on the surface of the floater, another clamped on Heem's flesh, and the third waved about randomly. Heem was fortunate: he had caught the monster by surprise, without his burning weapon.

The floater took off. It had the same brute power the living floater did, but it was really a cold metal platform. Heem jetted to maintain his orientation, lest he roll off, but he was held in place also by the Squam's cruel claw-pincer grip. He tried to needle the floater to establish control, but the metal was unresponsive. They sailed up and away, across the valley of Morningmist.

Heem tried to orient to needle Slitherfear, but still that awful grip interfered. Heem was accustomed to rolling, to get his position, so he could aim his needlejets; now he could not roll. He became dangerously hot trying. The Squam was horribly strong, gripping him with devastating authority. How foolish it had been to engage this monster in direct physical combat!

Then Heem realized: Slitherfear's hold on him was not the grip of authority, but the clutch of desperation. The Squam was afraid of falling off the floater, and was holding Heem so that the two would fall together. Heem actually had the advantage. He had caught the Squam weaponless, unbalanced, in the air; now it was body-to-body strife, elemental, with death to the one who first fell. A true rolldown between them.

This gave Heem confidence. He was desperately afraid of the Squam, and afraid of falling, but he would be satisfied to die himself, so long as he killed the Squam too. Since Slitherfear obviously preferred to live, Heem had a powerful tactical advantage.

He jetted more carefully, causing his body to exert rolling force in one direction and then another. The Squam's single claw hurt him as he put force against it, but he felt it give. As he reversed his thrust again, the enemy was forced to bring his free appendage down to grip the surface of the floater, lest his whole body be dislodged. The floater had irregularities suitable for the attachment of three-digited appendages. Heem was pursuing an initiative, forcing the Squam to react.

Now Heem's taste informed him that the groove from which that arm unfolded was in range. He oriented carefully and fired his sharpest needle directly into that cleft. The water was so hot it was starting to vaporize, like a jet from a floater. The effect was instant: the Squam snapped that limb back into its groove.

Encouraged, Heem jetted into the groove of another limb. This was an imperfect shot, glancing, but the effect was similar. He was not certain whether it was the impact, or the wetness, or the heat that was responsible, but he could provide plenty of each. The claw released him as the limb retracted. Now Slitherfear was clinging only to the floater, not to Heem.

Heem needled the third limb. But the position was wrong; he could not reach the groove from which it folded. Nevertheless, that limb quivered. The Squam lost his remaining grip on the floater and began to slide off it. Heem, acutely aware of his advantage, jetted forcefully, rolling his body into that of the Squam, trying to shove it off the floater. The Squam was solid; a fall should hurt him as much as it would hurt Heem. Perhaps more. But Slitherfear slithered forward and hunched his body, and it was Heem who overbalanced and fell off. He tasted the floater zooming ahead, while he angled down. He tasted vegetation below—and a streak of open water to one side. Heem jetted explosively on the opposite side, nudging his body toward the water, and plunged into it with a terrific splash. His consciousness departed.

'So you survived,' the alien Jessica said. 'For a while there I wasn't sure!'

"I survived—but so did Slitherfear. I failed to kill him, and he escaped the valley." And Heem was savagely sorry.

'But you were young then, inexperienced! He was a representative of a technologically developed species. It was not an equal contest.'