Complete Short Fiction, page 289
The sun was low when D’Orrey started down the trail. He watched the footing carefully, and had no trouble recognizing where Vicki had slipped on the way up; but there was no sign of any similar accident going down until he was almost at the bottom of the steep section. Then he nearly provided the evidence himself as a loose stone went out from underfoot. His reflexes stood up to the test. His other foot moved quickly and stopped the fall; for a moment he felt the prickle of released adrenaline, then a mixture of two kinds of relief—that he had not actually fallen, and that neither of the others had seen the near-incident. He could have treated any minor injuries himself, since neither of them would know when he had started down and no delay would have been obvious; but suits healed themselves much more slowly, and the boy would certainly have noticed anything wrong even with the garment turned off.
Vicki was visible and audible as he neared the camp; the boy was neither. She was still sneezing, and occasionally coughing and blowing her nose. She was not wearing her camouflage unit, but a warm water-repellent coverall. Her suit was draped inside out over a nearby bush, and D’Orrey decided that his nephew was really showing off. Natural, or course, but his time promising a really useful put-down.
He turned off his suit as he approached the camp—he had forgotten to do so while crossing the road—and gave a cheerful whistle. Vicki saw him at once, waved, and noting the raised eyebrows as he drew nearer, nodded towards Peter’s tent.
“He’s been busy ever since we got here, as far as I can tell. I don’t know what progress he’s made. I haven’t heard any bad language.”
“Vick, you know me better than that!” an indignant retort came from the tent, whose soundproofing was evidently off. “I’ve figured out what to do, and started most of it. The things just have to grow now.”
“Then we can go back in the morning, rain or no rain?” Jaques asked.
“I think so. You never can tell just how long debugging will take, of course.”
“Of course,” the others agreed together. “Coming out soon?” the woman added.
“Might as well. It’s on its own now. Just a minute.” The tent entrance rolled itself up, and Peter crawled out and stood up. He was wearing the same shorts as before, designed to support pockets as well as dazzle eyes, plus the shoes whose soles had grown much thicker after a few minutes’ use around the stony camp site. A nanohack could make himself very comfortable if inclined that way. His nephew was still, D’Orrey felt, conscious of his own physique, but his suspicion might merely represent an undersize uncle’s jealousy rather than objective analysis. It would be nice to be a few centimeters taller . . .
He could have been, of course, but he had much better things to do with his money. Let the kid gloat if he wanted.
“Anything happen?” Peter asked.
“Nope.” D’Orrey shook his head negatively. “Nothing bigger than grasshoppers.”
“How much time do we budget for just waiting?” the boy asked. Both pairs of male eyes turned to Vicki, the patient one.
“A week at least,” she replied promptly, and firmly. “If that bothers anyone, maybe you could design some snake detectors for us so we could go where they are instead of waiting for them to come to us. I know it’s no use tramping around just looking for them; their prey would hear us and take off first, and they’d either go after dinner or at least away from us.”
“But don’t rattlers usually just wait for the dinner to get near enough?” objected Peter.
“Yes; but is it what they usually do that brought us here?”
“No. You’re still cooking tonight, Uncle Jaques.”
The rain continued, sometimes very heavily, for much of the night, but the sky visible through the branches seemed cloudless again by sunrise. Peter and D’Orrey of course took advantage of Vicki’s cooking turn to stay in their tents a little later, but before the sun was very high the three were again climbing to the Stage. They were laden pretty much as on the previous day, but Peter seemed to have learned something; attached to his belt was an object about the size, shape, and from the way he had handled it, the weight, of an ordinary brick. The others suspected he was bringing his entire stock of nano equipment this time.
Vicki’s suit now seemed completely healed. D’Orrey had not asked whether his nephew had done anything to it, assuming that the way it was hanging the night before implied the answer. The question seemed unimportant just now; the catechol embarrassment could come later. They reached the rock, this time without incident, unloaded food and water as before and draped reflecting film over them. Then Peter once more set out his apparatus, leaving his “brick” on the rock.
D’Orrey eyed it thoughtfully, but decided not even to test its weight. He was pretty sure that touching it without the owner’s knowledge would not be possible, and however harmless the act and natural curiosity he didn’t want to be defending himself.
The kid was close enough to running the group already. His embarrassed ignorance of outdoor environments, even with its resultant delay of the project, had been quite lucky, D’Orrey felt; but it couldn’t be expected to keep him down long.
His reflections were interrupted by a yell from the Stage, coming through the suit communicators but also audible directly. For a moment neither of them could see the boy; then he sprang into brief visibility as his suit cut off, vanished again fro a second or two, and reappeared once more. Neither watcher could guess whether the garment was being flicked on and off in indecision or was malfunctioning. Still less could they guess at a cause for either possibility until Peter provided it, coherent now but still highly excited.
“Rattlers! Dozens of ‘em! They’re heading toward you. What’ll I do?”
“If they’re heading this way, why do anything? Or are you in their way?”
“No, I’m behind them and they don’t seem to care bout me. But I can’t get back to you or the rock. They’re in the way!”
“Go around them. You should be able to run fast enough. Or don’t you want to get in front? Just make up your mind how badly you want to be up here with us instead of on the ground with them.” D’Orrey tried not to sound impatient or superior.
There were several seconds of silence. Peter remained visible, and appeared to be surveying the ground with some care. When he finally spoke again he seemed calmer. “I guess I can see more down here. Do you see ‘em yet?”
Both adults looked carefully before Vicki answered “No” as calmly as she could. “How far are they from you? And just how many are there really?”
“ ‘bout seven or eight meters from the farthest I can see. A dozen or so. I think there were more, and they’d be closer to you now. They’re really travelling.”
“And how many really are there?”
“Well—I can count eight, now. There were more, though. All heading for the rock. Don’t you have a flock of mice, or squirrels, or rabbits, or something they might be chasing?”
“Not that I can see,” replied the woman. “And would they be chasing? In a pack?”
“Who knows, now?”
“Are there any more behind you, or on either side?” D’Orrey cut in. “Could you tell whether they were all coming from the same place?”
There was a pause before Peter answered, still more calmly this time. He seemed to be getting back his control, and actually to have looked before answering.
“I don’t see any more. These were all between me and the rock when I first saw them.”
“Can you check in both directions—sideways, that is—and get some idea whether this is just a small bunch or whether more are coming from somewhere?”
“All right.” The suit vanished once more, to D’Orrey’s satisfaction; Peter must really be thinking again as an observer. He even began reporting his position every few seconds, realizing that the others would have trouble spotting him.
“Ten meters to your left of where I was. No more snakes . . . Twenty meters. Still none. Thirty . . . I’m getting near the trees. Still none. I’m heading back the other way . . . back where I first saw them . . . now to your right . . . ten meters . . . Another bunch from the trees—I’m going back,: There was silence for several seconds. “There are fourteen or fifteen in this bunch, mixed up together so they’re hard to count. They’re heading your way, too. They can’t be chasing mice.”
“Or you?” queried Vicki.
“No, neither group cared about me. It’s something near you, or at least the rock.”
“How closely do you feel like following them?” asked D’Orrey.
“I’m keeping them in sight. I’m about five meters behind a couple of stragglers in the new bunch. D’you want my suit off so you can track us?”
“No need. We both have strobes if we need ‘em, and as long as you’re moving can see you fairly well anyway. If you keep your suit on, you won’t have to worry about any more behind you.”
“Why not? I’d be less worried if they could see me!”
“Are you sure? We don’t know yet what has them excited. If you feel like being experimental bait, of course, we could start finding out.”
The boy did not answer for a moment. Then, “Why not? There’s plenty of trees. I’ll catch up with this batch.”
Vicki stirred and almost uttered a protest, then looked at Jaques and merely frowned. Both waited silently and attentively, watching with narrowed eyes the barely visible figure sixty meters away. Not even the first group of snakes he had reported could be seen yet from the rock.
Peter’s indistinct outline was approaching them, but no quite directly; apparently he was trying to come up on the right of the group—or should it be called a gaggle, a wisp, or a pride. D’Orrey wondered briefly and irrelevantly. Surely the language had a collective term for snakes; it wouldn’t be surprising if it had several for different kinds, though of course serpents had never been game animals in medieval Europe. As far as he knew.
“I’m only a meter to one side of the group, about halfway between front and rear. They’re not paying any attention to me so far. I’m going to cut my suit—don’t worry, Vick, I’m good and ready to run.”
The tall figure sprang into visibility, heading toward the watchers at nearly a run; if he were still matching speed with the rattlers, both adults thought, the snakes were certainly enthusiastic about something.
“They still don’t care about me. I’m going to get right among them.”
“Don’t be crazy!” called Vicki.
“Don’t worry. I’m set to jump, far and fast. What was that poem? Snakes to the right of me, snaked to the left of me, snakes before me—they still don’t care. I’m going to stop for a minute and check readings.”
They watched as he took the monitor from his belt and held it near his face. They then saw that his claim to be ready to jump was fully justified.
He jumped, farther and faster than D’Orrey had thought possible even for someone with Peter’s build.
“Hey! They stopped and—reporting later. I’m leaving.” The departure could also be watched easily; he did not reactivate his suit. He made four tremendous leaps, the monitor still in his hand, taking him over a dozen meters from his starting point; then he paused and looked back.
“They’re interested in me now. They’re all coming at me. I hope whoever pulled this trick hasn’t taught them to climb trees.” He resumed his flight.
“Lots of snakes can,” D’Orrey remarked mostly to hide his own mounting anxiety. “Pick a tree with—”
“If that includes rattlers I don’t want to know it. Wait a minute.” The boy stopped again, once more looking back at his pursuers. Then a chuckle came over the communicators.
“I thought it was too much of a coincidence. They’ve lost interest in me again. I turned my monitor off. They’re milling around sort of confused—now they’re starting back your way.”
“And your first group is in sight here,” added Vicki. “Snakes, nut no mice or any other prey.”
“Did they get distracted when I had my monitor on?”
“I didn’t notice, I’m afraid.”
“All right. Let me get farther from this bunch—no, I’ll wait here and let them get farther from me, and I’ll turn it on again. I’ll tell you when to watch for results. All right?”
The woman, and even the uncle, were less worried now; a straightforward and only mildly risky experiment was under way. They waited in relative calm until the second pack—that was the best word, D’Orrey decided—of rattlers had come close enough to count.
“All right, if you think you’re far enough—or close enough!” Vicki called.
“Right, Monitor on—now!” The pair on the rock watched the reptilian assembly below for long seconds, but no change in behavior was evident. The creatures had come to the base of the declivity, and some of them seemed interested in trying to climb the relatively smooth stone. This was not worrisome; even the human beings had not been able to ascend this face, though mice or squirrels no doubt could have. D’Orrey felt a twinge of uneasiness as some of the snakes wriggled off to both sides; if the surrounded the boulder, there was at least one place where they could certainly get up.
“They doing anything?” came Peter’s voice.
“Not exactly,” replied his uncle. “If they were responding to your monitor before, it must be too far away now.”
“Okay. This lot is coming back. Easy to check the distance effect, but I’ll cut off again and wait ‘til they all reach you.”
Neither Jaques nor Vicki had to look up to know what Peter was doing: there was only one obvious way to make the test. It made more sense for them to keep observing the rattlers.
These showed no change in behavior for some time, even after the second lot arrived. When they did, D’Orrey felt little relief. The reptiles directly under him were starting to behave aimlessly, as though uncertain of which way they wanted to go, but those farthest to the sides still seemed to keep their interest in the rock itself, and were gradually surrounding it, moving out of sight to each side. He did look outward, then.
Peter was scarcely a dozen meters away, still easily visible.
“You’re distracting the ones closest to you, I think,” his uncle reported as calmly as he could. “You’d better stop where you are—no, move to one side. Can you see them well enough, or should we warn you if they start your way?”
“I can see ‘em. We’ve settled something, anyway.”
“What?” asked the woman.
“They’ve been implanted with something. They’re homing, though I’ll need the kit up there to spot the actual radiation. My monitor broadcasts too, of course, but they seem to have a stronger yen for the kit itself. If it had been one of the suit processors, of course, this would all have happened the day before yesterday.”
“Why didn’t they come to the camp? You were working there for long enough,” D’Orrey pointed out.
“I suppose no rattlers, or at least no implanted ones, were close enough. We’ll have to try parts of the kit, one by one, to find out just what’s the light that’s drawing them. I’ll shut this off, and come on up.”
“Be careful on your way,” Vicki spoke up. “The things seem to be working round the rock on both sides. There was only one place we could climb, but maybe you’d better approach that a bit cautiously.”
“Sure thing, Ma.” What seemed to be progress was apparently restoring Peter’s ego. He vanished once more in camouflage, but the others could still make him out vaguely as he started around the boulder to their right. D’Orrey picked up the nano kit and placed it as far to the left as was practical; maybe this would draw the rattlers away from the climbing spot. Turning off its contents would presumably be better, but that would have to be left to its owner.
“Watch it!” Peter’s voice came again. “A couple of them are working their way up. I’m not sure I can—”
“Don’t try!” snapped his uncle, leaping toward the climbway. There was not sharp drop-off. Smooth top gave way with increasing steepness to an irregular lope much more overgrown than the flat part. The growth hid the top of the narrow path until he had descended nearly half way. No snakes were visible even when he got there, and after a moment he went a little farther and ensconced himself a short distance to one side of the route where the snakes might be expected to pass. The interesting question was whether the lure of the kit would cause them to continue up the rather vague trail or allow them to explore. Toward him. It would depend, he feared, on their intelligence level. He hoped this was no higher than he believed. If they passed him without noticing . . .
The first one, an eighty-centimeter youngster, did. He waited until it was a little farther up than his own position, set his jaw, and snatched at its tail. He caught it just ahead of the rattles and whipped it outward and upward away from the rock, only then wondering whether it would land anywhere near Peter.
A second rattler was now in sight, but he took time to call a warning.
“Pete, I’m tossing them back down, but can’t tell where they’ll land. Watch for snakefalls.”
“Fine. Half a dozen are at the foot of the climb, and more are coming. How do I get up?”
No one had an answer for the moment. D’Orrey flipped the second snake back to the ground, and half a minute later processed a third. None of the creatures had so far noticed him; their I.Q.s seemed acceptably low, or the implanted homing urge very strong, but he wondered what would happen when his first subject got back. Snakes do have memories of a sort.
“Maybe you could let all the ones on this side get up on top, so I could follow—”
“And get there to find them all wrapped around your high-tech brick?” Vicki finished.
“But if we tossed ‘em off the tock from there, it’s take them a long time to get around and back up, and I’d have time to find out which unit was attracting them.”
