Maybe because she had no answer.
8
The maccaluca gazed down at the potential prey out of the shape sensor that ran horizontally across the upper half of its face. It was not so much an eye as an instrument for analyzing interruptions in the patterns of light. The unique organ of perception had evolved to automatically filter out rain, thus enabling the maccaluca to see as clearly as if no rain was falling. In the brief dry season, when this evolutionary advantage was denied to it, it had great difficulty catching food and chose instead to hibernate in the high hollows of the great trees.
Now it “saw” the three figures moving below it as sharply as if they were not currently making their way through a torrential downpour. Other inhabitants of the flooded forest gave it a wide berth. For while the upper portion of the maccaluca’s face was given over to its distinctive cream-colored organ of discernment, the rest of it was mostly mouth.
Half a dozen many-jointed arms allowed it to move rapidly and with great flexibility through the branches and vines. Once, it paused to pin a plate-sized fungi-browsing falek between the opposing pincers on one arm. Mewping futilely, the unlucky falek disappeared down a dark gullet. The snack only increased the maccaluca’s interest in the more substantial food that was moving below it. Silently it began a gradual descent, its dappled brown-and-green fur together with the red and yellow lichens that grew upon it allowing it to blend in perfectly with its sodden surroundings.
Hasa broke trail while Jemunu-jah brought up the rear. Between them, the disgruntled and markedly unhappy Masurathoo kept up a steady stream of complaint. At least, the Sakuntala thought, the Deyzara had stopped griping about the damage to his clothing.
“I am compelled to point out once again that I think we should have remained at the crash site.”
And I am compelled to remove my side arm from its place of resting and blow your speaking trunk clean off your head, Jemunu-jah mused silently. But I won’t. At least, not yet.
“Save you energy for walking,” he replied tersely.
“Walking where?” The Deyzara fluttered a flexible arm at the surrounding Viisiiviisii. “Deeper into damp deadliness? Nearer to death?”
“Didn’t you hear the human and I consulting? Coming this way, he flew over small village a number of days’ trek northeast from here. We reach it, maybe they have communications facility. Few communities on Fluva completely isolated anymore. We rest and eat there until pickup can be sent out for us.”
Masurathoo snorted through his eating trunk. “If we can reach it, and if they have any means of communication with civilization. Those few isolated communities to which you refer are most unlikely to be found, sir, in this unvisited and unmapped portion of the Viisiiviisii. They might just as well decide you are a hereditary enemy, that we are your friends, and choose to have us for dinner—as courses and not guests.”
Jemunu-jah bridled at the insult but said nothing. He could not, because he knew the two-trunk’s words to be true. There were still large areas of Fluva the Commonwealth presence had not yet touched. Were still cousins who lived according to the old ways.
“I prefer take chance with Sakuntala meat eaters than with those that dwell in forest. At least can talk to former.”
Hooting derisively, Masurathoo struggled to descend to the larger branch below. They were traveling very close to the water now. The stagnant rain-spattered surface was only a few meters below the branch they were presently traversing. All manner of ferocious organisms dwelled in that water, he knew, hatching out of the dry ground and maturing rapidly as soon as the rains began to fall and the forest to flood. Many lurked just beneath the surface, waiting hungrily for food to fall from the trees. A considerable number were vegetarians. Those that were not—he shuddered—those that were not were best encountered in harmless education vits or in museums. They were a varied and impressive lot, inspiring in the many different ways of killing they had evolved.
He wanted to ask his companions to climb higher, away from the water, challenging as the effort would be to his already weary muscles. At best, they would ignore him. At worst, his suggestion would inspire more jokes at his expense. He had poor grounds for argument, he knew. Both the Sakuntala and this Hasa person were far more at home than he in the depths of the Viisiiviisii. He was going to have to rely on their expertise to get out of this alive. He knew it, they knew it, and he knew they knew it.
So he kept his mouth shut and plodded on in comparative silence, nervously trying to divide his attention between the slippery, uncertain route ahead and the ominous shadowy sheen of water below. All the while, he wiped constantly at his eyes. Rain battered them despite the protection provided by his electrostatically charged wide-brimmed hat and rain cape.
He was concentrating on some small movement in the water when he stumbled and fell. The aqueous disturbance seemed to intensify as he slipped toward it on the rain-slickened wood. Kicking frantically, his sandaled feet smashed through a clump of punky purple fungi, shattering the alien basidiocarps and sending thousands of spores shooting prematurely into the damp air. An instant later, his feet and legs were in the water. He didn’t fear the water. Unlike the thranx, the Deyzara were excellent swimmers. But like anyone living on Fluva, he very much feared what lurked within the water.
Powerful arms grasped his own as he scrambled desperately to gain a footing on the semisubmerged branch. One set of arms was covered in light gray-and-black fur, while the other was nearly as bare as his own. Working together, human and Sakuntala easily dragged their clumsy companion clear of the water.
Lying on his back, Masurathoo first checked to make sure he hadn’t lost any of the survival gear attached to his waist belt. To his considerable relief, everything was still where he had secured it. He had to rely on his own resources, he knew. The likelihood of either of his companions sharing their own supplies with him was small.
But . . . they had pulled him out of the water.
“What happen?” Jemunu-jah’s tone reflected little in the way of actual concern.
“I saw,” wide, bulging eyes turned to the right, “I certainly saw something moving most noticeably in the water.”
Sakuntala and human exchanged a glance. “What you see?” Jemunu-jah inquired further.
“Movement. I assure you that it was quite noticeable, if not especially distinctive.”
Straightening, Hasa turned his head sideways and spit, an action both the Deyzara and Sakuntala found interesting. “You saw movement in moving water. No wonder you panicked.” He shook his head in disgust. “The Sakis are afraid of their own shadows and the two-trunks are still gooking around in the trees. What a world.”
Having once again managed to insult two species in one sentence without the slightest regard as to how the two local representatives of those species might react, he turned to resume the trek eastward. There was a small gap between the half-submerged branch they were standing on and a dry branch opposite. He paused there, not waiting for his cohorts but judging the distance. Though it was modest, the slickness of both surfaces made even a short jump tricky.
Being Deyzara, Masurathoo had no elbows. Instead, he stiffened the longitudinal binding tendons in his arms to raise himself to a half-sitting position. As he did so, he saw a rustling of leaves directly overhead. Though he could see nothing behind them, he was immediately certain of one thing: the activity was not being caused by falling rain.
“Up . . .” He swallowed. “Something is moving above us.”
Hasa turned his head slightly but didn’t look back. “Sure. Probably whatever came leaping out of the water.” He continued to gauge the short jump in front of him.
“No, it is verily true, sir!” The Deyzara started to get to his feet; in the absence of bones, it was a graceful, flowing, noiseless movement. “Please, look!”
With a sigh, Jemunu-jah started to tilt his head back. At the same time, both ears inclined sharply forward. Behind the sound of droplets landing on leaves and woo
d, there was something else: a faint scratching. Frowning inwardly, he trained preternaturally sharp eyes on the cluster of leaves and epiphytes the Deyzara had singled out. Cat pupils expanding sharply, he reached for his pistol and threw himself to one side.
Extending his speaking trunk to its full length, Masurathoo let out a piercing hoot and rolled, landing in the water with a clumsy splash. Mouth parted so wide it made it appear as if its head were split in half, the maccaluca landed on the branch where the Deyzara had been barely a second before. The branch bent noticeably under its weight. One clawed leg slashed at Masurathoo’s back but caught only brightly dyed material. Spinning ferociously, the predator extended three other limbs in the direction of the rapidly retreating Sakuntala.
Jemunu-jah raised his pistol and squeezed the trigger. Another instance, he knew, where Commonwealth technology was a welcome improvement over traditional implements. Facing down a maddened, determined maccaluca was no time to lament the passing of culture.
He tripped just as he fired. The shot went over the maccaluca’s flattened egg-shaped skull to split leaves and bring down a large cluster of aerial roots. Behind the monster, Shadrach Hasselemoga could be heard cursing in a multiplicity of languages.
Lying on his back, Jemunu-jah struggled to bring the gun up and around for a second shot. His right arm had become entangled in some chest straps that had come flying up toward his face when he’d tripped. The maccaluca was very close now. The fully agape mouth was lined with a thousand needlelike finger-length teeth designed to clamp down and not let go. Rain, usually a familiar friend to the Sakuntala, was in his eyes.
Something half as big around as their now submerged skimmer erupted from the water on his left to clamp triple jaws around the body of the maccaluca. Jointed clawed legs waved wildly and the predator screamed, a high-pitched howl that was almost a hiss. Its limbless attacker slid straight back into the water from which it had exploded, dragging the luckless maccaluca down with it. In their wake, water boiled and bubbled for a moment or two. Then all was silent once more.
The querulous peeps and edgy screeches of the Viisiiviisii resumed, in vivo counterpart to the continuous rain.
Still holding one of his two pistols, Hasa had moved to stand close to Jemunu-jah. He did not offer the taller Sakuntala a hand up. Reaching over his head, Jemunu-jah grasped a small branch with both hands and pulled himself erect. Together they stared at the place where the maccaluca had been sucked down.
“That’s a new one on me.” The human spoke as if he had just been presented with a holiday greeting vit. “The maccaluca I recognize. What was the thing that got it?”
“Vuniwai. Only third one I ever seen myself. They not common.”
The prospector spit anew, this time into the water. “Glad to hear it.” He turned. “If I had a hundred credits for every narrow call I’ve had in my life, I’d be retired now.”
Jemunu-jah took a step in the human’s wake, then halted. His sharp eyes searched the surrounding varzea. “Wait. Where is the Deyzara?”
Hasa halted, his brow creasing. “You’re right. Two-trunks has up and gone missing. Did the macca get him?”
“I don’t think so. If it did, I not see it.” Bending, he began to scan the water. When he finally straightened, it was to pick a spherical bowai fruit from its supportive basket of glasslike fronds and toss it into the shadowed surface.
It landed next to what appeared to be a particularly robust pink stick. The stick promptly surfaced, followed by the thoroughly waterlogged Deyzara. Having rolled into the water to escape the maccaluca’s attack, Masurathoo had remained there completely submerged, breathing through his trunk.
The Deyzara was trying to look in every direction at once as he swam back to the semisubmerged branch where his two companions waited. “Is it gone?”
“Yeah, it’s gone.” Hasa’s eyes suddenly widened. Crouching, he reached for his side arm. “There’s another—right behind you!”
Letting out a hysterical hoot, Masurathoo spun wildly, kicking up water in every direction. When he finally calmed down some, he saw there was nothing behind him but a small taleki making its brightly patterned ponderous way across a supportive line of dink molds. Chortling loudly, the human turned away and strode back to the gap he had been contemplating crossing moments earlier. Suffering from a momentary surge of compassion, Jemunu-jah reached down to help the saturated two-trunks back up onto the branch. Every one of the six fingers on his left hand was needed to keep his grasp from slipping.
“Why did Hasa he say there was maccaluca there?” he wondered aloud.
Masurathoo started to run part of his wrappings through two strong digits to strain water from the fabric. Abruptly aware of the futility of trying to do so while standing in the midst of rain that hardly ever ceased, he gave up and let the limp material fall from his hand. It slapped wet and heavy against his leg.
“Some humans, if the wretched truth must be told, find the most extraordinary things a source of great personal amusement. Not excluding inducing terror in others.”
Both turned to regard their muscular, insular companion as he easily jumped the watery gap. Despite Masurathoo’s silent wish, the vuniwai did not erupt from the water a second time to swallow the Deyzara’s tormentor. Sputtering water from both trunks, he resignedly started to follow.
Later, once they had climbed to a comparatively safe height above the water, Jemunu-jah murmured softly to the miserable Masurathoo, “If it of any kind solace, know that I not find human’s action funny, either.”
The Deyzara turned goggle eyes on his much taller, leaner companion. “It is most considerate of you to say this thing.” Water spilled in tiny cascades from the wide brim of his rain hat. “I most assuredly did see movement in the water. Perhaps the next time neither of you will be in quite such a rush to enjoy laughter at my expense.”
Jemunu-jah dipped his head and ears slightly in the Deyzara’s direction. “Perhaps,” he admitted.
But that won’t keep us from laughing at the sorry sight of you, he mused as he followed the soggy lump of pink flesh deeper into the trees.
Their first night away from the shelter of the skimmers was terrifying to Masurathoo. A highly educated administrator and executive, he had spent all his life in the developed towns of Fluva. In his mind and those of his fellow managers, camping out and going to hell had interchangeable meanings.
At least, he reflected as he sat in the supportive crook of several large branches some five meters above the water, he was traveling in the company of two tough individuals. They were used to surviving such conditions (even, he reminded himself with a certain degree of satisfaction, if they were incapable of recognizing the potential danger to be found in a pool of unnaturally disturbed water). All he had to do was remain in one piece, keep up with the pace they set, stay between them, and he would get out of this with both trunks intact.
Anyway, that was what he kept telling himself, over and over.
A truly deafening cacophony of mewlings, howls, roars, peeps, twitters, hisses, and scratching sounds filled the air when the exhausted clouds finally cleared for a while. Able at last to slip out of his rain gear for a few hours, Hasa carefully laid his attire over smaller branches in the hope it would dry out a little. The human, however, did not stop there but continued disrobing until he was completely naked. Squatting down, he set out a small emergency light and began eating his evening rations. In a wishful dream, the light would be seen by any skimmers or aircraft that happened to pass overhead.
Unaccustomed to the sight of an unclothed human, Sakuntala and Deyzara contemplated their naked companion. Hasa was completely oblivious to their stares. He would have reacted exactly the same had he been traveling with a dozen of his own kind. In the Viisiiviisii, any inhibitions vanished as rapidly as did clean clothing.
After a moment’s hesitation, Masurathoo removed what remained of his own brilliantly colored but badly tattered attire and laid it out as neatly as he could
manage over the same welcoming branch, alongside the human’s garments. Jemunu-jah observed this procedure in silence. His own strappings were as comfortable wet as dry and were designed to reflect his status and wealth rather than enclose his body. Of course, he had his fur to keep him comfortable in the constant rain and damp. Deyzara and, with spotty exceptions, humans had no such natural protection and were forced to make do with bulky, binding coverings of artificial fabric. He felt sorry for both of them.
“You would like your garments to be dry,” he stated thoughtfully.
The naked, muscular human glanced up at him. “Damn right I would. Kind of an impossibility, though, out in the Viisiiviisii. Even if your rain gear stays fully charged and keeps the rain off you, your clothes get soaked with sweat while you’re working or walking. Either way, a man ends up sopping wet by the end of the day.”
“Would you like have them dry for little while, anyway?”
Pale blue eyes narrowed. “What is this—Sakuntala humor?” Holding a half-full cup in one hand, Hasa gestured with the other. “You can’t make a fire out here. Nothing’ll burn. And I’ll be damned if I’ll use up the charge in my cutter to dry my underwear.”
“True so. But can find heat.”
He disappeared into the tangle of branches and vines. An apprehensive Masurathoo watched him depart. “Whatever he is thinking of, is it wise to go looking for it? The darkness conceals many dangers.”
“Shut up, two-trunks.” Hasa’s expression was as sour as his tone. “Something I’ve always wondered. If a Deyzara presses the end of his breathing trunk against his eating trunk, can he snort food out of his own stomach?”
Masurathoo’s own eating trunk recoiled at the image that was raised by the human’s words. This Hasa was by an order of magnitude the most unpleasant example of his species Masurathoo had ever encountered. Brutish, uncouth, racist, devoted only to his own well-being, he was not the sort one would want to encounter at a party or official function. How well such characteristics were suited to survival remained to be seen.