Complete Short Fiction, page 145
He dangled the bug between two thumbs, and I took it back.
“What do you have to do with the Case?” he said.
I’d had the pleasure of solving minor puzzles while beating the hell out of myself. But this feeling, where two seemingly unrelated pieces suddenly slid together, was what told me I had finally found the right line of work.
“Nothing, I don’t think,” I said. “I’ve certainly never run into one. They never come out, do they?”
“You saw others of these segmented invertebrates. Did they all look alike?”
I thought about it. Near Jaenl’s house, yes, all pretty similar. But elsewhere . . . “I saw a couple in a higher location. Those had full shells, dark in color. And they were dead.”
“Ah. It has moved then. Lower down, it seems like. These parasites don’t move far once they fall from their host. And they usually lack everything they need to develop much further, so they die.”
“Their host?”
He settled back against the wall. “Even I know little about the Case. But I do know that they sometimes have . . . a kind of pet, I suppose, though the relationship is much more significant than that. I happen to think that the Case brought their most feared predator into their own nests but never fully domesticated it. The creature’s been called a Soot by some, so I’ll use that too.
“Soots pick up a lot of diseases and parasites, and when they get infected they lose whatever partial domestication they have and can cause a lot of damage in a Case. They see it as possessed, as bringing a real spiritual darkness with it, and try desperately to kill it. They lack the skill of death. And the Soot are tough, proof against most conventional weapons, explosives, high energy, serious toxins, anything. Now, a Soot might be able to cure itself, given the right resources. Various things will kill the parasites before they kill the Soot. But the Case get frantic and usually just manage to drive it out. But they still want it dead. It is an almost spiritual threat to them. If they had the sense they would hire . . . wait. Wait a minute.”
I’d been hoping to get information without letting out any in return. But Proffur was an Extirpator. Spoor. He knew the information I had dropped was a sign of something else.
“Zinter! Poor Zinter. He was never that good. I might have made him adequate. But he quit me, quit the business, said Kremmid wasn’t to his taste. As if I picked it for its pleasures. You go where your prey takes you. But perhaps he was a bit smarter than I had given him credit for. . . .”
He was figuring things out. I could see that. And faster than me, because he knew Zinter, knew his history, knew what decisions he might have made. He now knew that Zinter had been hunting something, in Drur. The fallen parasites indicated a creature called a Soot, important to the Case. I’d thought I was getting information from him, and he’d ended up getting a lot more from me.
Still, maybe he wasn’t sure if he’d squeezed me dry yet. Drur was big. Just through dumb luck I hadn’t blabbed the specifics of the tunnel, the fresh parasites down below. . . . Maybe I could at least distract him a bit by giving him a more specific location that had the virtue of being wrong.
“He never managed to get rid of them,” I said. “They are still all over. I mean, there’s a whole new infestation, in a different spot. How do you kill them? We’re pretty desperate, I have to say.”
He considered me. I did my best to show only frantic confusion, like someone so focused on the parasites that were driving her crazy that she was missing the important thing their presence revealed.
“The parasites aren’t easy to kill,” he said. “At least for a nonprofessional. You need a ridiculous amount of energy. Massive electrical discharges, ionization, high heat, things like that. No biological counteragents as far as I know. Where are they now?”
“All over Mesklitchtown! Just within the last few days. No one up there expected that. Massive electrical discharges . . . I don’t even know how I would do that. Do you know an exterminator that could handle it? Someone you could recommend? And quick. I need someone tomorrow.”
He considered this. “I don’t know of anyone with the right skills.”
I waited.
“It’s a specialized situation, these parasites. Perhaps I could come up, make a more thorough diagnosis. I would be happy to.”
I’ll bet you would. I was certain he’d be heading up to Drur anyway, armed for Soot. Then he could make a deal with the Case.
Was there a good reason not to just let him do it? Yes, there was. That Soot was mine. Not his, not Mirquell’s. I knew only Mirquell had the resources to deal with it, but I’d found it. I knew exactly where it was, in the lower tunnel of Drur Reef. I didn’t know if it headed up in that direction to purposely do it, but I knew how it could cure itself. Lightning bolts. The poor thing was trying to get at its parasites, and everyone, from Zinter to the Remediators, seemed to be trying to keep it from getting up there.
I’d given him a lead to the wrong location, and indicated, as much as I could, that I was clueless, and that there was really no reason for him to hurry. The thing had been up there for weeks, after all. No one had any idea it was there.
It took every ounce of self control I had to lounge back and ask him some clueless question about whatever it was snaking through the rock below us. He talked, but reluctantly, his answers clipped and monosyllabic. He was anxious to prepare to hunt Soot, and he wasn’t doing much to hide it.
Finally I took mercy on both of us and stood up. “See you tomorrow. Ten? Meet me at the base of the hill, I’ll show you where things are bad.”
“Make it a bit later. I have some preparations to make.”
“Sure!”
I felt his eyes on me as I climbed back up the stairs. Just as I got to the top, a deep boom shook the walls, making the stairway rattle.
I turned and looked down at him. Even with this sign that his prey might really be down there somewhere, Proffur was up, briskly packing up the various instruments and tools he’d been using to track it. He had bigger, or at least more profitable, game to chase now.
Kiff leaned out of the window. “Jaenl’s gone.”
“Where?” I wondered if Kiff ever left his house.
“With Mirquell. Somewhere.”
When I got to Mirquell’s house, however, it was shut up and empty. The table and chairs were gone. I stood there, blood pounding in my ears. I had no doubt that Proffur would be here soon, no matter what ostensible appointment we had for tomorrow morning. If I’d distracted him properly, he’d poke around Mesklitchtown for the parasites before . . . I saw what was going on below.
Part of it, anyway. The patio only caught part of the view of the spot where the Remediators had crossed once they had abandoned the tunnel—the tunnel where I was persuaded the Soot now hid.
The fact that I wished, at that moment, for a glider, should have told me how crazy I was. Instead, I slid down the steep path below Mirquell’s, up into Drur Reef, and up to the spot where I had met the Saristifian. It was now so packed with people of various nations that there was no room to move. I shoved my way through anyway.
The Remediators were gathered in a bunch with their pods, shuffling aimlessly. Mirquell stood where the path narrowed, facing my friend with the laser head. Mirquell shook her head, spoke slowly and clearly.
“While the rest of your route is properly leased by Ferrulin, they did not lease this one. I have. And I will not give you access.”
“We must take these up,” the leader said. “Soon.”
“I told you, you can’t. I will not grant permission.”
“You wish payment? Shaking down?”
“A nice idea, but no. You can’t afford it.”
The Remediator wasn’t large, maybe three feet long, but it did have a laser. That wasn’t of much use in the negotiation.
Despite myself, I admired Mirquell’s quick use of the legalities. Ferrulin had leased the Remediators a concealed and secure route up to the butte where the lightning storms hit. But when Zinter tried to kill the Soot—and I was positive now that that had been his goal—he had made that route impassable for them. I thought it was the detonation, but not directly. It had frightened the Soot into the lower part of the tunnel, right where the Remediators were to pass. That made them apprehensive. Anxious to do their work, they had been unwise, and not had Ferrulin renegotiate for the alternate route. It was kind of waste ground: who would care? And no one ordinarily would have.
But Mirquell had somehow gotten the ownership information and obtained a lease for herself. Or maybe she was just making it up. Who knew, with her?
I saw my Saristifian in the crowd, who gave me a wave, a few of the Prirt, who did not, and Jaenl. All were intent on the discussion, as if they had a stake in it. And, since this was their neighborhood, I guess they did.
Mirquell glanced at me as I came up. “What are you doing here?”
I glanced up toward the heights. Clouds were gathering on the highest butte. No wonder the Remediators were anxious.
“You offered an escalator for what Zinter was doing. Then you reached a conclusion, and took it yourself.”
“That’s right,” she said. “Thanks for summarizing so clearly.”
“Only your conclusion was wrong. Maybe the Case care about whether the Brune make it to the zoning meeting, or, more likely, they know nothing at all about it. It’s irrelevant.”
Mirquell waved me off, not even looking at me. “This is no time for another theory of how the Case behave. Aren’t you the one who less than a week ago knew nothing at all about them?”
“What I do know is that Zinter wasn’t here to stop the Remediators from getting their work done. That was just collateral damage. You know the Case better than anyone. Have you ever heard of a Soot?”
That caught her attention. She didn’t like it, but she turned to look at me. “It’s a ceremonial pet the Case have. Or are rumored to have, at any rate.”
“It’s more than a rumor. There is at least one. Infected, crazed—and on the loose.”
“And how do you know this?”
“Do you really want me to list all my sources? The Soot got infected with a parasite, broke out of the Shrivis Case, and managed to hide itself here, probably because it was hoping to get up to the lightning storm and cure itself. Zinter got hired as a pest exterminator. He recognized the pest he was supposed to get rid of as a Soot parasite. That meant an escaped Soot was hiding somewhere nearby. That gave him enough information to contact the Case in Shrivis and get hired by them to eliminate their former pet, which they now feared more than anything else. But Zinter wasn’t the man for that particular job. In trying to kill it, he only managed to kill himself.”
“And you, what, think you know where it is?”
“I know exactly where it is.” I swallowed. “In the lower tunnel. I was standing right under it.” I remembered that parasite falling into my hair. If I had looked up . . . well, I might have solved it all earlier, or I might be dead. Interesting set of possibilities.
Mirquell stared at me. Then she looked up the slope, to the butte where a storm was only a few minutes from breaking.
“Leasing this parcel took everything I had left,” she said.
“Are you saying you won’t pay me for the escalator we agreed on?”
Mirquell smiled. Her mouth looked better frowning. “This isn’t enough for that, Sere.”
“What?”
“It’s plausible, I’ll admit that. But I don’t pay on mere plausibility.”
I looked around at the crowd. The Remediators, miserably hunched together, just wanted to do their job. That’s all any of us really wants to do. Our job. Everyone else watched, not taking sides.
“When I was putting these facts together, I interviewed the Extirpator who trained Zinter. A Hanten named Proffur. I learned what I needed to, but he in turn learned that there is a Soot on the loose somewhere in Drur. He won’t pass up that opportunity. Unlike Zinter, he’s unlikely to fail.”
“Oh, for—this is great, just great. What the hell were you thinking? Why can’t anyone around me do the simplest . . . damn it. Damn it to hell.”
Mirquell ranted and swore, exactly as if I was her employee and had just told her of a major screw-up. I had felt bad about tipping off Proffur, no matter how inescapable that had really been. Now I didn’t.
“What does it matter?” I said. “No Soot, no problem.”
“Because I saw Proffur, dammit,” Mirquell said. “Big Hanten, some kind of blunderbuss on his back, charging through Mesklitchtown like a madman. Your Extirpator. No doubt.” She paused. “What was he doing up there, when the Soot is down here?”
“I gave him some false information. That will only slow him down, though.”
“That’s something, at least.” She glanced up toward her house. “He’ll spot us, if nothing else. If I could have your attention?” The crowd fell silent. “If everyone could just go about their business, I would appreciate it. We’ll have an informational party later. And you guys.” She addressed the Remediators. “If we get your help, you can get up to get your laundry done.”
It was Proffur who had put me over the edge with Mirquell. Would she ever have believed me if he hadn’t shown up?
“My escalator . . .”
“Yes, yes. Don’t be tiresome, Sere. I can already see that’s a personality flaw. You earned your escalator. Now let’s get that Soot.”
Somewhat to my surprise, Mirquell gave up her property rights and sent the mass of Remediators on their way. They tore up the path, pods bouncing behind them. Their leader remained with us as we descended into the tunnel.
“Tunnel was a necessity,” it told me. “Not our environment. A tunnel predator . . . dangerous for us. Sensible to just change our route.”
They were impervious to lightning and toxins, but the risk of something hunting them through the dark tunnel was enough to frighten them.
What babies.
I led us to where I had been standing when I felt the parasite fall on me . . . where I thought that was, anyway. We searched the complex ceiling with our lights. Several times we thought we saw something. Each time it turned out to be a leftover piece of equipment, or just a shadow.
I heard Mirquell breathing hard next to me. I was breathing hard myself. I tested my chain of conclusions. Had I really gone wrong somewhere along the way?
I moved to get another angle of view.
“You should look down,” Mirquell said quietly. “You really should.”
I did, and froze.
I stood on the rim of a small pit. Not deep enough to really fall into. But deep enough to partly conceal the Soot.
Because that was what it had to be: a serpentine creature with dozens of legs, maybe a dozen feet long, and two feet thick, its head turned toward us.
It opened a mouth that revealed two sets of crisscrossing teeth. It looked dusty, sick—but its teeth were still a bright yellow, seeming to glow in the darkness. In the light of my headlamp, I saw a couple of the parasites clinging to it. Eventually they too would drop off.
It had been clinging above me. I was sure about that. But maybe it had grown too tired to do even that.
“Let’s get this taken care of.” While I was examining it, Mirquell had worked her way around to the other side of the pit. She squatted and did her best to pry up a big slab of broken rock. It was too heavy for her. “Get over here and help me with this.”
“You want to tip a rock onto its head?” I willed myself not to laugh.
Mirquell paused in her futile, grunting efforts. “The Case want this thing dead. We can’t wait around for nature to take its course.”
“They want it dead . . . or cured,” I said.
“Dead is easier and quicker. This thing is heavy!” Mirquell lost her grip on the slab and sat back on the ground.
“It should get up to that lightning field to cure itself.”
I could see the butte from where we stood. The first few flickers of lightning were visible above it. In a couple of minutes, the rest of the Remediators would come into view and then would head for the last climb up.
“Oh, really?” Mirquell looked disgusted. “Are you going to carry it up there on your back?”
I looked down at the beast in the pit. “It looks like it can still move. It’s just been blocked at every opportunity and, sick as it is, has lost the will to act.”
“I’m so glad I hired an expert in Soot psychology to explain these things to me. Your Extirpator buddy won’t be distracted for much longer.” She made another effort to topple the rock and failed again. “This is ridiculous.”
“Come on.” I talked to the Soot. “They’ll let you go. No one will stop you. Head on up there.” I pointed. Was that a tiny, distant clap of thunder? Who could tell?
“Now that’s inspirational,” Mirquell said.
“Lightning?” the Remediator leader said, and I remembered his ionizing laser.
“Can you bring it down? Down here?”
He turned his massive head toward the distant butte. A brief flicker of laser and a massive bolt of lightning turned the darkness of the tunnel into more than day. Mirquell howled, I fell backward . . . and the Soot, with a massive effort, humped itself out of its pit.
It moved clumsily, but desperately, its legs whirring in the crumbled dust of the floor. The Remediator ran up the tunnel, getting out of its way, and brought down another bolt of lightning.
That gave it renewed energy, and it ran after him.
Mirquell could make jokes about it, but it really was inspiring. It wanted to live. It wanted to be well.
But there was no way that stubby-legged thing was going to get up to the top of the butte, certainly not in time to catch the real energy of the lightning storm. The Remediator could maybe zap it a couple of times. Would that take care of all of its parasites?
“How fatal are toxins to that thing?” Mirquell said, as she puffed down the tunnel alongside me.
If not an expert on Soot psychology, I guess I was an expert on Soot physiology. “Proffur said it was incredibly resistant. Lightning, certainly. Toxins, explosives . . .”
