IV. The Rain and the Night
Geoff Ashbury mopped his forehead for the third time in as many minutes and cursed. Back in Al-Walid, he'd thought any society whose vices were not only allowed, but supported by the government (such as it was) must be quite advanced. Out here in the middle of nowhere, though, that same society wasn't looking so enlightened anymore.
Damn it, couldn't these people at least install some sort of lift on the cliff face? Ashbury stopped to take several breaths from the rented aerator before trudging up the pueblo's next flight of stone steps. A report salvaged from the camp of a long-dead geological team showed that the sparse oxygen came mainly from some sort of airborne algae. Despite all evidence that showed the microbes to be benign, he still couldn't suppress a shudder at the thought of millions of the things invading his lungs with every breath. The fact that it was almost pitch black outside didn't help, either.
He wouldn't be here at all, if it weren't for his latest contract. His mother had always told him to go to medical school....
Clara Ibrahim had humiliated him--deliberately, he was sure--by walking in on his enjoyment of the planetary government's laxness. What was he supposed to tell the young lady he was "entertaining"? "Excuse me, my dear, but I've got to go see a man about a bug" just didn't live up to his stature, never mind that it wasn't the glow worms that he'd been contracted about. At least, not by those Darklings.
Just who the hell was this Jack Riddick fellow, anyway? The last Riddick he'd heard of had died thirty-some years ago. Good riddance, too--except that this whole, hellish planet was now run by a government of Richard B. Riddick's making. The inanity of a galaxy, where a convicted mass-murderer could attain Primacy, never ceased to amaze him. Now, there was an entire world populated by every sort of scum from convicts, to dishonorably discharged ex-military types, to runaway slaves (freed now, due in large part to the Darklin Primacy debacle). He hoped every one of them enjoyed the climate as much as he did.
Ashbury found the house he was looking for just as the rains started. The temperature began dropping sharply as soon as he was invited in.
* * *
Judith laced up her gauntlets with shaking hands. It didn't matter how often she flew with her teammate, it always terrified her. The fact that she'd given the creature the innocuous name "Rocky" didn't help--it was still forty feet of wings, claws, and teeth. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for the victims of the Lost Nest; Judith, at least, was fairly certain Rocky wasn't going to eat her. Most of the time.
They were late for their scouting patrol, but that was due to Clara's little brother, Abe. He'd managed to slip back into the control chamber, where Judith had found him, once again, hooked into the ship's sensory net. The ten-year-old spent all his spare time--and quite a bit that shouldn't have been spare--communing with both the ship and every winged one hooked into its operations; but he couldn't be bothered with talking to his own relatives. Judith knew she wasn't the only one to think something might be wrong with the boy.
She slipped on her nightvision goggles before strapping herself lengthwise onto Rocky's harness. Moshe and Kat Ibrahim had thought their children might actually become a separate human species, but the felinoid woman's traits had, for the most part, not bred true. Only a few of their descendants, like Clara and Abe, had any of the ex-slave's genetic enhancements other than spotted skin. Judith would have gladly accepted her blemishes, if she'd been able to see in the dark.
Tapping Rocky's wing shoulder to signal her readiness, Judith braced herself along the muscular back as the creature's wings cut through the rain and the night. This was why she submitted herself to the beast: at times like this, with the exhilaration of being effortlessly aloft, she could understand her young nephew's fascination with the ship's sensory net.
They had been on the wing for only an hour or two when the booming call knocked them out of the air. Judith couldn't actually hear the infrasound that vibrated through her breastbone, but it was loud enough to stun Rocky. They fell in a barely controlled glide and landed in a spray of sand.
* * *
Its sensory horns still ringing painfully from the disorienting call, this one barely remembered not to shake the buzzing out of its head until its rider was free of the harness. The female was still strapped to its back, but by the feel of things, she was quickly working her way loose. As the phantom sound subsided, it heard Judith cursing and moaning softly. It turned one horn toward her, and heard the grating of bone on bone. A broken arm.
Its own arm twitched in a sympathetic reaction. (This one expresses regrets for its rider's injury,) the one called Rocky said politely, but Judith made no reply; this one had never learned whether the female who had teamed with it had ever learned its language.
Remembering its training, this one began scrutinizing its surroundings carefully; that disorienting cry had to have come from somewhere. Its sonar brought back the texture of sand and stone and metal; the olfactory patches on the roof of its mouth informed it that they were not alone. Judith stood shakily at its side. Her scent was suddenly pleased, despite her obvious pain.
"We found it, Rocky!" She limped away toward the jagged maw that ripped open the hillside. "God, I hope we can--"
Her voice ended in a strangled gasp as her scent of pleasure changed to one of blood. This one listened to the sound of feasting for a few moments, before turning away and launching itself back into the wind. Idly, it wondered whether the other humans would still call it "Rocky" when it returned.
Geoff Ashbury mopped his forehead for the third time in as many minutes and cursed. Back in Al-Walid, he'd thought any society whose vices were not only allowed, but supported by the government (such as it was) must be quite advanced. Out here in the middle of nowhere, though, that same society wasn't looking so enlightened anymore.
Damn it, couldn't these people at least install some sort of lift on the cliff face? Ashbury stopped to take several breaths from the rented aerator before trudging up the pueblo's next flight of stone steps. A report salvaged from the camp of a long-dead geological team showed that the sparse oxygen came mainly from some sort of airborne algae. Despite all evidence that showed the microbes to be benign, he still couldn't suppress a shudder at the thought of millions of the things invading his lungs with every breath. The fact that it was almost pitch black outside didn't help, either.
He wouldn't be here at all, if it weren't for his latest contract. His mother had always told him to go to medical school....
Clara Ibrahim had humiliated him--deliberately, he was sure--by walking in on his enjoyment of the planetary government's laxness. What was he supposed to tell the young lady he was "entertaining"? "Excuse me, my dear, but I've got to go see a man about a bug" just didn't live up to his stature, never mind that it wasn't the glow worms that he'd been contracted about. At least, not by those Darklings.
Just who the hell was this Jack Riddick fellow, anyway? The last Riddick he'd heard of had died thirty-some years ago. Good riddance, too--except that this whole, hellish planet was now run by a government of Richard B. Riddick's making. The inanity of a galaxy, where a convicted mass-murderer could attain Primacy, never ceased to amaze him. Now, there was an entire world populated by every sort of scum from convicts, to dishonorably discharged ex-military types, to runaway slaves (freed now, due in large part to the Darklin Primacy debacle). He hoped every one of them enjoyed the climate as much as he did.
Ashbury found the house he was looking for just as the rains started. The temperature began dropping sharply as soon as he was invited in.
* * *
Judith laced up her gauntlets with shaking hands. It didn't matter how often she flew with her teammate, it always terrified her. The fact that she'd given the creature the innocuous name "Rocky" didn't help--it was still forty feet of wings, claws, and teeth. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for the victims of the Lost Nest; Judith, at least, was fairly certain Rocky wasn't going to eat her. Most of the time.
They were late for their scouting patrol, but that was due to Clara's little brother, Abe. He'd managed to slip back into the control chamber, where Judith had found him, once again, hooked into the ship's sensory net. The ten-year-old spent all his spare time--and quite a bit that shouldn't have been spare--communing with both the ship and every winged one hooked into its operations; but he couldn't be bothered with talking to his own relatives. Judith knew she wasn't the only one to think something might be wrong with the boy.
She slipped on her nightvision goggles before strapping herself lengthwise onto Rocky's harness. Moshe and Kat Ibrahim had thought their children might actually become a separate human species, but the felinoid woman's traits had, for the most part, not bred true. Only a few of their descendants, like Clara and Abe, had any of the ex-slave's genetic enhancements other than spotted skin. Judith would have gladly accepted her blemishes, if she'd been able to see in the dark.
Tapping Rocky's wing shoulder to signal her readiness, Judith braced herself along the muscular back as the creature's wings cut through the rain and the night. This was why she submitted herself to the beast: at times like this, with the exhilaration of being effortlessly aloft, she could understand her young nephew's fascination with the ship's sensory net.
They had been on the wing for only an hour or two when the booming call knocked them out of the air. Judith couldn't actually hear the infrasound that vibrated through her breastbone, but it was loud enough to stun Rocky. They fell in a barely controlled glide and landed in a spray of sand.
* * *
Its sensory horns still ringing painfully from the disorienting call, this one barely remembered not to shake the buzzing out of its head until its rider was free of the harness. The female was still strapped to its back, but by the feel of things, she was quickly working her way loose. As the phantom sound subsided, it heard Judith cursing and moaning softly. It turned one horn toward her, and heard the grating of bone on bone. A broken arm.
Its own arm twitched in a sympathetic reaction. (This one expresses regrets for its rider's injury,) the one called Rocky said politely, but Judith made no reply; this one had never learned whether the female who had teamed with it had ever learned its language.
Remembering its training, this one began scrutinizing its surroundings carefully; that disorienting cry had to have come from somewhere. Its sonar brought back the texture of sand and stone and metal; the olfactory patches on the roof of its mouth informed it that they were not alone. Judith stood shakily at its side. Her scent was suddenly pleased, despite her obvious pain.
"We found it, Rocky!" She limped away toward the jagged maw that ripped open the hillside. "God, I hope we can--"
Her voice ended in a strangled gasp as her scent of pleasure changed to one of blood. This one listened to the sound of feasting for a few moments, before turning away and launching itself back into the wind. Idly, it wondered whether the other humans would still call it "Rocky" when it returned.
