Amazon Slaughter and Curse of the Ninja Piers Anthony

  It made an inquiring grunt and stepped forward, its nose questing. Its manner was not aggressive; rather, it seemed curious about the men, and unafraid, mirroring the ninjas' own attitude. But the half-wild dogs laid back their ears, growled nervously, and then in the fury of desperate fear, charged.

  A metallic tube appeared in the creature's hand-hoof. A thin beam speared from it to touch the lead dog. The animal gave a yelp of surprise and pain and dropped, a disk-shaped spot smoking on its forehead. Twice more the beam flashed, and the two other dogs died. Then the death tube swung to cover the ninjas.

  Tanaka's unerringly thrown shuriken, or small metal star, flashed quicker than thought, knocking the tube from the thing's grip. The pig-man squealed with frustration and dropped to all fours, reaching for it. But the four ninjas were already loosing their arrows. They had been trained to act without taking time to plan, when the need arose.

  The first shaft struck the creature on the flank, but only pricked it despite being well-sent. The second clung momentarily to its shoulder before dropping. The hide was like leather armor, almost invulnerable to light weapons, and the clothing seemed to be missile-proof. The third arrow winged toward an eye, but the head ducked down and it bounced harmlessly off the impervious skull. Now the ninjas charged, closing the gap before the beast could recover the laser tube. Two went to the right side, one to the left, and one came head-on with a bisento, a spear-like halberd. The weapon struck first, but the monster hunched its head down and took the thrust on the shoulder. The creature seemed to have uncanny anticipation of ninja moves, nullifying their attacks even as they started.

  Then the head thrust forward and up. The left tusk drove into the ninja's belly, snagged on his backbone, and swept him off his feet. The mighty neck muscles hurled him into the branches of a tree at the edge of the glade, where he hung, broken and dripping. Now Tanaka, on the left, delivered such a powerful thrust to the pig-man's gut that the point penetrated the softer armor of the underside. With a roar of pain the thing's head swung about, jaws gaping. The teeth closed on Tanaka's right arm and crunched together irresistibly. The head twitched back—and Tanaka's arm was ripped off. The ninja, his pain blocked off by shock, merely stared in astonishment before collapsing.

  Meanwhile, one of the remaining ninjas was attacking with a kusari-gama, a chain with a sickle on one end and an iron ball on the other. He swung the sickle at the beast, but somehow the pigman avoided it and the chain wound around Tanaka's just-severed arm instead. The beast then hauled the ninja in on his chain and used the bloody arm to smash in the man's head.

  The last ninja was working with a yoketsu shagi double-bladed knife, one blade straight, the other curved. He plunged it into the exposed neck, but there was only gristle and muscle, and the neck was so thick that not much damage was done. The beast scooped up a fallen spear between its teeth, actually employing its head in preference to its hand-hoof, and shoved it through the ninja's chest. Then its sharp rear hoofs finished off the fallen Tanaka.

  "I begin to comprehend," Hiroshi said. "The beast-man—he was an alien creature from another planet circling another star. From—he paused to read the moving fingers carefully. "From Betelgeuse, the red giant, six hundred and fifty light years from here. He crashed, but he was suspended in a special bath of oil with an oxygen mask, an impact-chamber. So he survived, and to cover his traces he blew up the remains of the ship. Which suggests that he was a criminal among his kind, a fugitive from justice. And now he is among us."

  But that was not all. The ninjas had covered up the site of the crash because it was too close to the Black Castle. Hiroshi was not in complete sympathy with the ninjas' single-minded determination to protect the secret of their stronghold, but he honored their ways, and so was trusted by them.

  But now the Beast posed a real problem. It was from an advanced interstellar culture and possessed some sophisticated technological devices. It craved power, so it was setting out to establish an empire here on Earth before its irreplaceable devices wore out or malfunctioned beyond the point of repair. It was no scientist or craftsman; it could not duplicate what it had saved from the ship. So it had to use all its resources now to achieve its ambition.

  This was the cause of the current crime wave. The Beast had succeeded in making contact with a Yakuza gang, and had quickly made it a far more formidable organization, and used it to control the others of that ilk. It had either eliminated or absorbed all the moneymaking rackets in rival hands, and would soon be a political force to be reckoned with. In fact, the day was not far off when it would take over the government itself.

  "This must not be," Hiroshi murmured. "The Beast of Betelgeuse must be nullified."

  Fu Antos' hoary head nodded almost imperceptibly. He did not care about the world, but he respected Hiroshi's humanitarian concerns. Hiroshi was one of his few liaisons with civilization, and one year Hiroshi would facilitate events that would enable the ninja lord to free himself of this hulk of a body. Also, the Beast had killed four of his ninjas and three good dogs, and that required an accounting. He signaled again with his fingers. "Take Mario and those ninjas you require. Bring the body to me. Do not let the authorities know what has happened." Because, to Fu Antos, privacy was more important than the welfare of the world. If news of the Beast, alive or dead, got out, it might complicate the ninja's secrecy.

  "Surely it is not necessary to kill the Beast," Hiroshi protested.

  Fu Antos dismissed that with a disdainful crook of one little knuckle.

  "It must possess secrets of immense value to the world."

  Fu Antos responded with the mere shrug of one withered finger. "It is criminal—and telepathic."

  Then Hiroshi realized what he was up against. But the job had to be done. "I will deal with it—my way."

  Mario and the three ninjas closed in on the lair of the Beast of Betelgeuse. This was a condominium in a quality residential district of Tokyo. Criminals occupied every apartment, but they behaved with such law-abiding decorum that they were a credit to the neighborhood. It was amazing how little difference there was between them and legitimate businessmen.

  Then there were sophisticated electronic devices protecting the building, for it is often the criminal mind that most fears crime. Not merely the best equipment that the technology of Japan could produce—which of course was the best in the world—but also clever little robots constructed from plans the Beast had salvaged—perhaps stolen—from its home system. They could lock onto the life emanations of a given person, track him down relentlessly, and destroy him with a laser beam to a vital area. The ninjas' misgiving about the decline of the fine art of assassination were misplaced, at least in this instance; the little robots were quality killers. They were also good guards, incorruptible—and once the gang gained control of a major electronics company, those machines would be mass-produced. Then the Beast would be invulnerable. But at the moment there were only three of them.

  This was where Mario Garcia came in. He was a tall albino lad with whitish blond hair, thin and nervous, a half-crazed Cuban exile and self-styled "Slan" who had tried to destroy the United Nations. He was also telekenetic—a freakish psi talent. He could fix on metal objects with his mind and move them about. Because he had used his talent wildly, and tried to hurt people, he had been taken in charge by Fu Antos, the only man who could control him. It would not be safe to expose him to the temptations of the world long, as his mind was not yet completely pacified, but this mission required his unique skill.

  Mario's mind spread out to infiltrate the locks and alarms and booby traps of the building and nullify them. All had vital components of metal, so all were vulnerable. The little robots were largely metal too. They were more of a challenge, being of alien conception, but still subject to his domination. One, two, three, they went dead. The young man nodded to his companions.

  Now the ninjas infiltrated. Disdaining the usual entrance, they employed their metal tigers-claws to scale the walls; they pr
ied open high windows with special tools. Silently they entered. An internal sentry spotted one; the ninja silenced him with a strangling cord and tied him up, unconscious. He did not kill, for Hiroshi had forbidden it, and the ninjas obeyed him implicitly despite his absence. This was the problem about working with a humanitarian; he imposed unrealistic restrictions and reduced the pleasure, not to mention the effectiveness, of the mission. A few little killings would have done so much for morale.

  The ninjas obeyed, but in Mario's mind was barely-suppressed contempt for the little Aikidoist. He knew Hiroshi could fight, for the man had originally subdued him and brought him captive to the dank dull Black Castle. But he also knew that Hiroshi's vaunted power of ki, that mysterious inner force that some martial artists possessed, had only barely prevailed over Mario's own telekinesis. Had the little ascetic not had Fu Antos to back him up—in fact, Mario had learned enough during his bondage to overcome Hiroshi's ki. But he couldn't make his break while Fu Antos lived, for Fu had ki like the faith to move mountains, and toughness of mind to match. Fortunately the Lord of the Ninjas was very old; he could not survive much longer. Even that awesome ki could not maintain life in a body rotting out from under it. Not indefinitely.

  So for now Mario would do the jobs that the ninja master assigned him, like the elimination of the pig-man. It should be no problem, with the ninjas to do the physical chores, and Mario to control the metals.

  But the raiding party had reckoned without the telepathy of the Beast. Deep in the heart of the building the alien was well aware of the raid. It dispatched thugs to engage the ninjas and to close in on Mario. This would take a little time, for now nothing mechanical or electronic was operative, including the elevators and intercom system, and the ninjas were expert fighters, and he wanted Mario alive. Mario could be very useful to the Beast! There would be no problem obtaining Mario's cooperation, after the ninjas were out of the way, because the Beast could offer Mario exactly what he wanted: power and freedom. Victory was sure, for neither Mario nor the ninjas knew what they were up against. Their thoughts were open books.

  Alone, the Beast waited, monitoring the progress of both thugs and raiders. This was a challenge, because its telepathy was short-range; it faded rapidly beyond a few feet, and was diluted by multiple foci. As a man has difficulty distinguishing anything when several people talk at once, so it had to work to make sense out of any single mind in the jumble. But the Beast was of a telepathic species, long adapted to this type of problem; it enjoyed the challenge in much the same fashion Mario enjoyed the challenge of disabling alien machinery. It skipped from mind to mind as a man tunes a radio when looking for a weather forecast, catching tantalizing snatches here and there, pausing occasionally, then moving on during commercials.

  Then the Beast became aware of something strange and alarming. There was a dead spot nearby, a presence that was alive but did not seem to think. Close, too close. In fact it was in this room. The Beast cast about, using its physical senses that it had necessarily tuned out to avoid interference with the telepathy. So it saw and smelled the mental ghost: a small, whiskery old man.

  "How do you do?" Hiroshi inquired politely in Japanese, making one of his little bows.

  Amazed, the Beast reacted involuntarily. It charged the intruder. But the little man moved with remarkable alacrity, avoiding the ripping tusk.

  The Beast, no fool, desisted at the physical level and concentrated on the mental. Normally it scored accurately with its weapons because it was aware of the intentions of its opponents. In this manner it had killed four ninjas in the forest while still shaken from the crash-landing. The ninjas had reacted almost without thinking, so that they had been able to wound it, but ultimately they had had to plan their attacks, and that had been their undoing. Now—

  The Beast paused, dismayed. This man had no mind!

  "It is the ki, and my Zen mind training," Hiroshi explained helpfully. "I can not duplicate your talent, but I can nullify its application to me. You can not read my mind."

  The Beast tried. To it, a person without a mind was like an animal without a smell: baffling. But Hiroshi's ki surrounded him, making him opaque to the creature's mind-probe. This was why he had been able to sneak in here, under cover of the distraction created by Mario and the ninjas, who did not know Hiroshi had preceded them. Without that feedback, the guidance of the prey's own mind, the alien was in effect blinded. It emitted a frustrated blast of emotion as red and hot as its native star, Betelgeuse, two hundred and fifty times as large as Earth's sun and three thousand times as luminous.

  "Ah, so you can broadcast too," Hiroshi remarked. "You are very talented. Why do you abuse your powers?"

  THINK YOU CAN BALK ME?! the savage thought came through, piercing Hiroshi's aura of ki and entering his mind like a spear through froth. Yet thought alone could not hurt the tough little man, and that same froth so fuzzed his own emissions of thought that they were meaningless to the Beast. I KILL!

  But it was an empty threat. On the purely physical level, without mind contact, the Beast was a clumsy monster, while the man was a finely trained combat specialist. The martial art of Aikido was recognized the world over as one of the most effective modes of self defense known. Policemen used it to control criminals, and even experts in karate, judo, and kung fu respected it. Hiroshi was the leading figure in Aikido. Old and feeble as he seemed, he could not be touched by the Beast—as long as he was on guard.

  Of course, if the Beast kept him occupied long enough, the thugs would have time to eliminate the ninjas—probably at great loss, for ninjas were deadly in close quarters, like weaponed ghosts—or get to Mario. When the machines resumed functioning, Hiroshi would be caught in this trap. Then—!

  "It would be better to talk," Hiroshi said mildly, seeming to be unaware of the plots fulminating in the Beast's brain. His ki did not interfere with his spoken voice, so the Beast could understand him well enough. "You could do so much good in this world, if you would. But you associate with criminals."

  Sorry the Beast projected contritely. It could not speak physically, as its snout and palate were not formed for this. I thought you were an assassin, come to kill me. I must protect myself.

  "I may be your assassin," Hiroshi agreed. "But not if I can find a better way. My purpose is to save my world from disaster, for there remains much good in it. If I can persuade you to use your powers to facilitate that good instead of for your personal power, then we shall have no quarrel."

  Something like a sneer rippled through the Beast's brain. A do-gooder! It had dealt with this kind before, in its home-system. Too bad the home authorities had caught on.

  Now the Beast projected its sad story. It was, it explained in regretful mental tones, a refugee from a distant planet, no criminal but a victim of circumstance. It had publicly criticized the criminal government of its planet, and had had to flee that region of space to avoid execution. The civilization of Betelgeuse was a marvelous thing, with miracles of science, art, and philosophy, but the wrong element had somehow managed to get into power. Much as, it pointed out obliquely, had happened not so long ago in the Earthly nation of Germany, precipitating global war, and even more recently in America, and might conceivably happen in a more civilized nation such as Japan itself some day. So the Beast—no beast, but an important person, like a noble, had fled. But its ship had malfunctioned six hundred light years out, and it had barely made it a scant fifty more light years to a habitable planet. It survived the crash, but when it tried to make contact with the nearby ninjas, they had attacked it. So it had had to fight.

  Hiroshi frowned. "True. You did not initiate hostilities. The dogs could not be restrained."

  So the Beast/Noble had avoided that type of savage and trusted no one. Instead it had made contact with people it need have no compunction about controlling: Japan's criminal element. The Beast had made these criminals into good citizens. If it could rehabilitate hardened thugs, think what it could do for ordinary citizens!
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  "Yet you are forming an empire based on crime," Hiroshi pointed out gently.

  Only to start, the Noble Beast explained. When it had taken over all the criminals and made them honest, productive citizens, it would proceed to the politicians and financiers and industrial barons and make them honest. Then there would be good government and good economics and the world would become a better place for everyone.

  "This is intriguing," Hiroshi admitted. "Yet I must mistrust any person or thing who seeks such absolute power for itself, however excellent the objective. Power tends to corrupt."

  Not for myself, the Beast projected with strong emanations of sincerity. This fool was taking the bait! Mario's thought had been correct: Hiroshi was not really so much. He was an altruist, therefore gullible. There were no mind readers on this planet to spill the Betelgeuse beans. I will install the best possible man in the world as Emperor, to rule wisely and well. It will be an iridium age.

  Hiroshi shook his head, half convinced. "No man could do it, especially not as your puppet."

  No man but one, the Beast projected, stepping closer. The one I have chosen is—you.

  "Me!" Hiroshi exclaimed. "I am no—"

  You are genuinely incorruptible, no figurehead. You care about the world. You must be Emperor. The Beast nudged up another foot. Its left tusk was now very near Hiroshi's head. The powerful neck muscles tensed.

  And Hiroshi flicked one finger at a spot on the Beast's forehead. It was a hard strike, for the finger was braced by ki and years of training to be like an iron bar. The Beast fell, numbed. Hiroshi had scored on its one vulnerability, that spot where the juncture of the two sutures of the skull bones conducted even the lightest shock to the sensitive brain.

  What gave me away? it projected weakly.

  "Your assumption about the basic corruptibility of man," Hiroshi replied sadly. "You thought every man had his price, and you tried to bribe me with the promise of power. This betrayed the ultimate nature of your thinking. No fire will temper bad metal into a good sword, alas. I am sorry I was unable to persuade you."