Pliocene Exile - The Adversary Part 24

"I couldn't carry the Hunt," Aiken told him quietly. "I barely have strength enough to fly-and maintain the bird illusion. If I overfly that enemy ATV column and attack it with the Spear, I won't have enough watts left to generate a psychocreative s.h.i.+eld against their weapons. I have a portable sigma-field generator, but using it makes flying even more difficult, and chances are that those North Americans have guns that will go through a small sigma like an axe through a muskmelon. So I'm going to try something different, and you'll help me with this scanner.

I'll ascend to a high alt.i.tude with the Spear.

Very high. You, Yosh, will zero in precisely fifty metres in front of the lead ATV and farspeak the coordinates to me." He blinked, antic.i.p.ating the engineer's question. "No, I can't use my own fa.r.s.ense to aim. I'm incapable of a precise focus at sixty kilometres. Besides, I'll need what residual mind-wattage I have left to screw up their scanners. I'll probably have to use the Spear more than once, so you must be ready to refocus whenever I give the order. Is that clear?"

"Yes, High King. It would be best if you could wait until the target is within forty-five kilometres. The scanner may not be reliable at extreme range."

"Good thinking. I'll hold off as long as I can."

Jim cried, "But what happened?

Kee-rist, Y'r Maj'sty! How we gone lick this bunch-how we gone lick the Firvulag - if you got no powers left?"

Aiken smiled and tapped the crested hood of his golden suit.

"I still have my full quotient of low cunning, Jim boy. The ordinary little grey cells that got me banished to the Pliocene in the first place. Didn't you ever wonder why they threw me out of the Milieu? Because I was a menace, that's why! There are brains and there are brains. Mine may be a trifle shy of metapsychic firepower at the moment, but not to worry. I'll recover soon enough. Meanwhile, I'll find other ways to rise to the occasion."

Cloud gripped the edge of the command console with taut concentration. "We're going to catch them! Estimated convergence eleven-point-four minutes!"

"Shall we man the sonic disruptors?" Phil Overton asked Hagen.

"No, you idiot. When we get clear line of sight-no trees, no b.l.o.o.d.y antelopes or anything stampeding in the way-we put up the sigmas. Then deploy in echelon off-road and chase until we're within stun range. Knock down their chalikos, close in and deliver a low-power lullaby to the folks, then scoop 'em up."

"We could hit the animals at longer range with the disruptors or the zappers," Phil said.

"And maybe kill some pilot or technician our lives may depend upon when Papa comes after us!" Hagen snapped. "No disruptors, dammit, and no photon arms, either. Those are only for use against troops from Calamosk."

"We'll have to leave slots in the sigmas to navigate and shoot Huskies through," Nial Keogh said. "They could nail us if they're sharp. Use psychozap in a bouncing ball-lightning effect."

"We'll risk it," said Hagen. "You and the other heavy PKheads will have to watch out for metafoolery. Now farspeak the others and advise them. We won't go echelon until the terrain's suitable. I'm going to call for max speed to close the gap. Hang onto your teeth."

The whining turbos rose to a howl. The fourplex vehicles charged along the crudely graded track, bouncing and veering and raising a monumental plume of dust. "Got 'em on the TSL monitor," said Veikko Saastamoinen. "Closeup farsight, too.

They know we're here, but they don't look worried."

Hagen scowled. "Hear anything?"

"Screened six ways from Sunday. The torcers have a blanket on the whole outfit. What I wouldn't give for your old man's metaconcert program! Funnel a mind-blast through me, we could drill every one of that bottle-armoured lot right between the ears."

"The King's got that program," Cloud said, "in case you've forgotten."

The fleeing chaliko riders were crossing a dry streambed and racing through a narrow line of poplar trees on the opposite bank. With the ATV safety governors on override, the vehicles were careering along at a speed that threatened to send them out of control.

"You've got to slow down!" Cloud exclaimed. "The others are-"

From the sky came a brief green Sash. Dirt fountained up in an opaque brown blossom and an explosion smote their brains at the same time as a farspoken roar: STOP YOUR VEHICLES. DO NOT ATTEMPT ERECT SIGMAS OR I ZAP LEADER.

Veikko screamed and clapped both hands to his skull. Hagen wrestled with the brakes and the vehicle slewed crazily off the track into the stony veldt, rocking and ploughing furrows with its deflectors as it tilted far onto its left side and nearly turned turtle.

There was a second explosion born from an emerald fire-bar, and this time the beam hit less than fifteen metres in front of them. Hagen cursed as he brought the vehicle to a halt.

DO NOT MOVE. DO NOT ERECT SIGMAS OR I ZAP.

Nial Keogh was speaking calmly into the microphone of the RF com, checking on the others. Veikko, his sensitive mind overwhelmed by the volume of the vibrant mental shout, had fallen to the c.o.c.kpit floor and was curled in a fetal ball, clawlike hands over his ears. The TSL display showed only multicoloured snow.

Cloud and Hagen looked at each other with bleak comprehension. The first game of the match was over. But at least their father was not the winner.

Cloud spoke on Aiken's intimate mode: We've stopped. May I come out on the bridge and parley?

There was a third explosion behind the last vehicle of the train, and G.o.dlike laughter.

YOU FOOLS. I'VE BEEN WATCHING YOU FOR HOURS. I COULD HAVE FRIED YOUR BRAINS THE MOMENT YOU SET FOOT ON MY MANY-COLOURED LAND. AND YOU THINK YOU CAN PARLEY?.

Cloud said: We have a proposition that may interest you. We really intend no harm to your kingdom.

I KNOW YOUR PROPOSAL. I KNOW YOU HOPE TO REOPEN THE TIME-GATE.

We will ... pay for your help.

HOW?.

Hagen's face was puzzled. He and Phil Overton had been hurriedly conferring and now he covertly told his sister: Something funny that not psychocreativeblast but photoncannontype!

ANSWER ME! OR MY METAPSYCHIC POWER WILL ANNIHILATE YOU!.

"The Wizard of Oz," Phil Overton said. "But with a gigacla.s.s zapper. Not quite a bluff-but we may have manoeuvreing room."

Hagen said: I am Marc Remillard's son. We'll pay for your cooperation by working with you to overcome our mutual enemy-whom we know a great deal better than you do.

Without our help he will destroy you as he will probably destroy us.

HE TELLS ME YOU ARE THE ENEMY!.

Hagen said: And has he told you that he's learned to d-jump?

There was a long silence. Finally the thunder-voice said: WAIT WHERE YOU ARE FOR THREE HOURS. THEN COME UP TO CALAMOSK WITH YOUR VEHICLE TOPS OFF AND YOUR ARMAMENTS DEMOUNTED-AND WE'LL ALL HAVE TEA.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Basil Wimborne and his crew of b.a.s.t.a.r.ds came again to the citadel of Calamosk, which they had visited earlier that year under far different circ.u.mstances. Then, during the worst of the rainy season, Basil had served as one of the leaders of the refugee army retreating from the flood-ravaged Aven Peninsula.

The little cadre that later became the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds had formed an impromptu staff under himself, Chief Burke, Sister Amerie, and Elizabeth. After the throng of displaced people had been driven away from Afaliah by the implacable Celadeyr, they had approached the smaller city antic.i.p.ating an even ruder dismissal by its arriviste human master, Sullivan-Tonn. Instead, they found that Sullivan and his young Tanu fiancee had been freshly ousted by Aluteyn Craftsmaster and a rabble of renegade knights from the Great Retort. Calamosk was battered and provision-short after the siege, but Aluteyn had given the refugees whatever could be spared before advising them to press on farther north to more prosperous regions.

Riding into Calamosk behind Ochal the Harper, Basil and his b.a.s.t.a.r.ds noted certain changes. The colourwashed halftimbered cottages that had once sheltered bareneck human townsfolk were now nearly all empty. Weeds grew among the street cobbles and there was abundant dust lying about, and neglected heaps of animal droppings. The stone planters and public gardens were untended and suffering from the summer drought.

Because he had once worn a golden torc, Basil alone among the contingent rescued from the dungeon was experienced enough in the use of the mind-enhancer to speak telepathically on the Tanu mode. He now asked Ochal: What has happened? The city looks so shabby so unlike the other Tanu cities I have seen since the Flood.