When she had no bag left empty, she decided to walk all the way around the island. She couldn't always follow the waterline, because some places the brush was too thick to plow through. So she detoured, but kept as near the water as she could.

  And coming around a large, dense thicket, back toward the shoreline, across a clearing she saw the animal.

  It was big, was her first thought-like a very large dog, but built high and narrow. Pink, mostly, but splotched with black and white spots, and patches of pale bristles. It looked to be leaning over something it had mostly swallowed, all but the legs that stuck out of the gaping mouth and reached to the ground. The thing's own legs curved back from where its body split to form them; they were board-thin sidewise and board-wide the other way, ending in heavy-clawed toes. Then it reared up on those legs, and the two things in its mouth reached out and wiggled, and it came at her.

  And she simply stood there, and watched it come.

  Time slowed and nearly stopped. Lisele found part of her mind watching the rest of it decide whether to be scared, and what to do about it. The creature's eyes sat wide on the sides of its head; she couldn't see both the tiny reddish organs at once; the head swung back and forth, showing her first one eye and then the other. She could see all the teeth, though-a lot of them. Big ones. They could take her arm off and hardly notice. But if they did, they'd bite off the thing's own tentacles, or front legs, or whatever they were. Tongues, maybe?

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  Until her foot caught on something behind her, she hadn't noticed she was dancing backward, staying ahead of the beast. Catching balance, she glanced down to see what she'd stumbled against. A stick, a good thick one, and long as her arm.

  Behind, now, was heavy brush-hardly any room to move back. She picked up the stick; it was heavier than it looked, and she had no idea what she was going to do with it.

  Why wasn't she afraid? Lisele shook her head; without thought she aimed the heavy stick at the creature's mouth, and held it steady. The animal still came directly at her; its mouth opened to take the piece of wood, and the tentacles grasped it. The tip of one of them touched her hand; it burned! Gasping, she stepped back and to the side; the beast stopped, and reared up. The clutching tentacles retracted; she could hear the teeth grind­ing at the wood. Still the head moved, peering at her first with one eye and then the other. And now again, with half the stick's length taken into its mouth, and tentacles reaching, the thing bent forward and came toward her.

  Straight at the end of the stick, she kicked her hardest. Suddenly it was nearly all the way inside the mouth, and around it a blue-brown fluid gushed out. Lisele stepped farther aside; the creature shuddered, and made noises like something coughing itself to death. Once more the tentacles retracted; then the beast fell forward, and they came out again and pushed it up, body almost level. It turned to face her; she began to circle it. Trying to follow, its tongue-legs stumbled and it fell over.

  For a long time she stood, her own legs shaking, until it no longer breathed. By then, she was too tired to bother with crying-and what was the point?

  Tregare, on the scout, wanted to go view the beast, but Rissa insisted he couldn't. When Lisele said that probably nobody could carry it all the way along the slippery path, he settled for Rissa's taking a holocamera. "Shoot from every angle," he said. Rissa agreed to do so, and to bring samples of flesh, stomach contents and the tip of a tentacle, so Jenise could try to analyze them.

  First, though, she washed Lisele's sore hand, and applied salve and a light bandage. Then she and Lisele and Hagen Trent went to the island. At least the creature hadn't gone anywhere.

  Seeing it lying flat on one side, Trent gave a low whistle. "Such a thing-in my craziest nightmares, I couldn't have dreamed it. But if Lisele could kill it, it can't be too dangerous."

  Rissa turned on him-and if a tone of voice could bite,

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  Lisele thought, the man's ears would be hurting. "We do not know yet, exactly how she did it. Now, I would ask." She did, and when Lisele told how time slowed and she watched herself do things, Rissa nodded. "I thought as much. The ability is not rare, but hardly common, either. The suspension of time is subjective, largely; while adrenaline does speed the reflexes somewhat, it is the subjective time for deciding that makes iie real difference." She coughed slightly, then cleared her throat. "I have had the reaction many times; to a lesser extent, Tregare has the trait also. I had wondered whether Lisele would inherit it; apparently, to her benefit, she has done so."

  Lisele shook her head. "It's so strange. I'd never-" She didn't know what to say next, so she stopped.

  Trent said, "Then the beast is more dangerous than I thought?"

  Rissa shrugged. "If there are more, I suppose we shall find out." Then she used the holocamera. Trent helped her turn the animal this way and that, to give the different views Tregare wanted. She cut meat from the flank, and opened the abdomen. Half-digested material went into one of Lisele's bags.

  Rissa turned away to leave. Lisele said, "Jenise wanted some of the leg, or tongue, whatever it is, too." She took out her pruning knife and knelt beside the dead thing. Then she paused; she couldn't touch the part she needed, without burning herself some more. All right; she had one sample bag left. Sliced down the middle, it made a pair of protective mitts. In a few moments she had her sample, and wrapped it. Then she stood. "Let's go."

  Back in the scout, Tregare exclaimed over the holo-pics and Jenise analyzed Lisele's specimen. Finally she said, "I'm not sure of all of it, but a main component is formic acid."

  After a moment, Lisele nodded. "Oh, sure. Ant bites."

  Next, Jenise opened the bag of stomach contents. Using tongs, she sorted the material into little piles, leaving several disgusting-looking lumps to one side. After a while she looked up. "Most of the vegetation is things I've already cleared as edible. More important, there's nothing here that I've figured to be unsafe for us. Some are new to me; maybe Lisele will find samples of them tomorrow. But for now-"

  Lisele said, "You think we can eat meat from this animal?"

  Jenise shrugged. "I don't know yet. We don't have the equipment for all the tests I'd like-to check the aminos, say. I

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  can test for metallic poisons, that sort of thing. But first, will someone put a small piece to boil, with a Sid over it?"

  Rissa's eyes narrowed. "Of course. As the volatile compo­nents boil out, the odors will give us clues." Soon she had the setup heating.

  "If it smells all right," said Jenise, "I'll sample the broth."

  Rorvik's limited chemistry and the "sniff test" gave the meat, tentatively, a clean bill of health. But the spoonful of broth she sampled stayed down only about fifteen minutes. Pale-faced, Jenise insisted on trying a bit of meat, anyway, and an hour later her digestive system hadn't made any protest.

  "Whatever's toxic, then, boils out," said Tregare. "Which means we don't ever roast or broil or fry the stuff." Rissa suggested boiling the meat in several successive waters, to get rid of as much poison as possible. After a second boiling, Tregare insisted on trying a sample, and it gave him no trouble.

  "Where'd you get that idea?" he asked Rissa.

  She paused, brow wrinkled; then she nodded. "Browsing in an old book, at Hulzein Lodge on Number One. The method was applied to kidneys, which otherwise have a rather ammoniac smell."

  "Sure." Tregare smiled. "I used to hate the things, until you served up bushstomper kidney at the cabin there, across the Big Hills from the Lodge. That's how you did it, huh?"

  "That is how, yes." Rissa stood. "Now, should we go and harvest more bounty from Lisele's kill? Hagen?" The engineer got up, too. Rissa hadn't said that Lisele couldn't come along, so Lisele did-and helped cut meat from the back and sides, then carried her share into the scout, where much of it was wrapped and frozen.

  At dinner, Stonzai and Sevshen tried portions of the new stuff-vegetables and meat, both-and showed no ill effects.

  Next, with help from Rissa and the two Shrakken, Trent got his new antenna system up among the trees, oriented, and connected to the scout. Inside, Tregare had to admit there was no way he could perch to operate the up-ended comm panel. So Rissa took over.

  "Try the Deux first," he said, settling into one of the relocated seats. "With the mountains in between, the odds aren't good-even if the ship's still on Shaarbant. But worth a try."

  The Deux didn't answer. Nor, when Stonzai spoke, did the

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  Shrakken bases at Sassden or Shtegel. Nearly an hour, they kept trying. Finally, crouched over the panel, Rissa turned and said, "I find no coherent signals whatsoever. But this does not prove that the Tsa have wiped those bases out."

  Tregare nodded. "Curvature of the planet, yeah. Ground-to-ground equipment, we don't have. The Shrakken have relay satellites that accept our frequencies, but damned if I know how we'd spot one, from here." He rubbed his chin. "I was hoping this place had enough ionosphere to give us the chance of a freak skip condition." Now he grinned. "Maybe somebody did hear us, but the skip just isn't working in both directions. Well, short of that-since we can't get upstairs ourselves, our best shot is if somebody flies over. You want to make a loop-tape, Rissa, and leave it transmitting? And Stonzai-will you make one, too, for raising your people, just in case? We can set the receivers to give audible alarm, and to record, if anyone does call back."

  "As you say, I do." And not long after, she and Rissa finished their jobs and climbed down. Rissa stretched and gri­maced, but the Shrakken showed no sign of being uncomfortable.

  "And what, Bran, do we do now?"

  "Wait. Well, go ahead with the food-gathering project, and all-except that from now on, that's a job for two, and with guns. But mostly, just wait."

  It was another week before Tregare, after dinner, said, "We're not going to get any answer. Folks, it's time we figured out our next move."

  XIV.IVAN

  Inconnu Deux slowed, and

  "stopped," and headed back toward Shaarbant. Over a drink in captain's quarters, Anders and Alina visiting Ivan and Dacia, Anders Kobolak asked, "Did everybody get the word, how many light-years we are, out from Shaarbant?"

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  Ivan had guessed, but at the figure Anders gave, he whis­tled. Translating distance into travel time, he whistled again. "Something more?" Dacia asked; he shook his head. But- without the Hoyfarul Drive, the Deux had real trouble. Its food supply was based on FTL travel times. Some folks might have to go back into freeze....

  Without stirring up alarm, Ivan checked on the matter. After all, if the captain wanted an inventory, he got one. He was relieved to find that things weren't urgent yet-but he made a point of getting Peleter's reports as soon as possible. If he had to hand his people a bombshell, he wanted to pick his own time for it.

  Crowfoot knew Hoyfarul's theories, the math part, and Peleter knew the hardware. Their expertise didn't quite meet, let alone overlap. But working together, as the Deux built speed toward C, they began to understand each other better. Sitting in as they talked, lounging in captain's quarters, Ivan could tell that they were nearing a conclusion. He thought he knew what it would be; he hoped he was wrong.

  But nothing stinks as bad as dead hopes. Tregare had said that once, and now Ivan knew how right his brother-in-law had been. "Our parabolic, acoherent drive field," said Crowfoot, "is solid as a rock, for sub-light speeds. But locking it into coherence, closing the field into ellipsoidal form for FTL-" He clicked his tongue. "The thing's not stable enough. And given what we have aboard to work with, I don't think it's going to be."

  Accepting, Ivan nodded. "You'll both keep trying, of course?"

  "Sure," said Peleter. "But, skipper-don't expect too much."

  Ivan's sigh came from tension, not relief; he hoped he kept it quiet. Turning to Dacia beside him, he said, "We need a meeting. Everybody. Drive and Control can attend over the intercom."

  She asked no questions; she called and set things up, putting Ellalee on the comm and Peleter on driveroom duty. After he heard several people come in, Ivan said, "Is everyone here, that should be?"

  "Just a minute." Then, "Yes, Ivan."

  "All right." He ranged his stare, that meant nothing now, around the room. One thing he'd learned-even though he

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  couldn't see, pointing his eyes at people had an effect on them. So use it.

  No one spoke. Ivan cleared his throat. "I'll make this quick. What we have is slower-than-light drive and faster-than-light food supplies. That means, some have to go back into freeze and sleep their way to Shaarbant." He paused. "Comments?"

  "I have some." An unfamiliar voice. "Why did we have to wait until now, to hear this?" A woman, and an angry one.

  "Because until now I didn't know for sure. Who are you?"

  "Melaine Holmbach, Drive-tech First. Nobody asked me to get frozen, or thawed out later, and now you don't ask, either. You just tell us. Don't I have anything to say about it?"

  First she angered him; then he felt pity; finally, only command was left to him. He unclenched the fist he'd nearly slammed on the table, and said, "Yes, of course; everybody gets to speak their piece. But you have to know the ground rules- Melaine, is it? We have twelve of us up, awake and eating and breathing. The way things are in your Drive room, we don't have food enough to keep that many alive, all the way to Shaarbant. And I'm speaking of short rations." He blinked, ignoring the pain that had become trivial, and tried to scowl in Holmbach's direction. "Can you understand that much?"

  A hand touched his own; close to his ear, the woman's voice came then. "You mean it, don't you?" Ivan nodded. "I thought it was a scash-but it isn't?" He shook his head. On his hand, hers squeezed hard. "Then say what you need, Captain."

  He found the numbers hard to say. "Four back to freeze, at least; more later, maybe. Without the Hoyfarul Drive, eight is the outside that our stores can support. And I'm not certain of that many-but that's how we'll start."

  The yelling, then, didn't surprise him. Ivan stayed shut up; let them get it off their chests, and then maybe they might start making sense. A man-who?-shouted, "Just for a start, blind man, who the hell needs youT'

  Ivan's voice caught in his throat; he couldn't answer. Then he heard Anders Kobolak say, "I do."

  To know what happened then, Ivan didn't need vision. Someone was scuffling; then Haskell Ornaway said, "What we're all going to do now is sit down, while Captain Marchant tells us the rest of it."

  Ivan wished it could be that simple. Quickly he assessed what he knew of those present. Then he made up his mind, and

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  spoke. "First off, dump the idea that freeze is second-class treatment. I once paid through the nose to ride that way, Earth to Terranova and then to Number One. Fourteen ship's months, which came to something like twenty-six years, objective time."

  He listened; no one's breathing sounded like getting ready to interrupt, so he didn't hurry. "Freeze spares you a lot of boring routine-and you don't age, not enough to notice. Think about it."

  He looked to where he remembered Dacia being, and she said, "You're making your point, Ivan. Go ahead."

  His held breath came out faster than he liked. He said, "All right; priorities, now. I'm staying up, myself, because Bran Tregare gave me responsibility for this ship-to keep it safe for him. And I owe that man." He blinked; the pain tweaked at him. And now who?

  He had to do it fast. "Those I'm keeping up with me, you'll be the ones I need most." He didn't want to laugh, then, but couldn't repress a snort. "The hell of it is, any choice I make is going to have holes in it." They were holding better than he'd expected; no one spoke. Damn it!-he couldn't list the ones for freeze; he didn't know all the names. He'd have to do it the other way.

  All right. "For starters-" Peleter for Drive, and Crowfoot for there and Control both. For reasons he didn't give, both the Kobolaks-and Alina. "Ellalee Ganelong resisted the Tsa attack better than any of us; that ability might be the most useful of all" And...?

  Ornaway and young Limmer broke the silence, each giving reasons to claim the eighth spot. Pointing his blind stare at each voice in turn, Ivan waved a hand. "No. Your thinking's valid, and given any leeway I'd go along with you. But I don't have that leeway. So-"

  Who? "One more for Drive." And what was the woman's name? Oh, yes. "Melaine Holmbach."

  Her voice came hoarse. "Me? Why, captain?"

  "You don't want the assignment?"

  "Sure I do. But why?"

  Because you know how to change your mind; I heard you do it.

  But he couldn't say that. "Luck of the draw. Somebody has to take the hard jobs."

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  Embarrassing, Ivan found it, to shake hands and send people off to freeze, where Dacia and Alina would do the final trundling. The ones he hardly knew didn't bother him, but Mask and Arlen-he felt he should say something and didn't know what. Finally he did find words. "You'll be up and doing when we come to Shaarbant. It's only the dead time, you're missing."

 

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