He’s very groggy, and perhaps a bit delusional, said Merlin silently. But something’s very strange here. I mean, other than his being here at all.
What is?
He was ripped to shreds by a predator, but pull what’s left of his shirt off his left shoulder.
Scorpio did so. “Son of a bitch!” he muttered, as the shoulder displayed a fresh laser burn, clearly just a few hours old.
“Let me suggest that whatever ripped him up did so as he was escaping from whoever burned his shoulder,” said Scorpio.
“Makes sense,” said Quintaro. He frowned. “But who else would be in this godforsaken wilderness?”
“Who indeed?” said Sapphire, joining them. Scorpio couldn’t get over the notion that she sounded amused though her expression gave nothing away.
Scorpio examined the man’s body to see where to staunch the bleeding and realized that there were just too many flesh wounds to close them all, or even half of them, before he bled to death.
Merlin, go to my bag and find the strongest stimulant I’ve got in the med kit.
Why waste it? He’s as good as dead.
Let’s see if we can wake him up long enough for him to tell us who the hell did this to him. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to know what areas to avoid.
Merlin took off without sending another thought and was back a moment later with the entire kit.
Why the whole thing?
I don’t know one stimulant from another.
Scorpio opened the kit, pulled out the one he wanted, pulled out a lozenge, and pressed it against the inside of the man’s upper lip, holding it in place for the count of ten. By eight, the man had opened his pain-filled eyes.
“What … where?” he mumbled.
“You’re among friends,” said Scorpio. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
“Some kind of monster ran right through camp … killed about half of us … I got in the way when one of my team took a shot at it … I don’t remember anything after that …”
“What are you—your group—doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” asked Scorpio.
You’re not going to believe it, thought Merlin.
“Looking for …” The man’s voice trailed off. Scorpio thought he had perhaps twenty seconds of life left, but then he looked past Scorpio’s shoulder and tensed. “I’m sorry, Miss Sapphire, ma’am,” he said. “I did my best. I hope you find it.”
All the tension went out of his body then, his eyes rolled back into his head, and Scorpio knew that he was dead.
He laid the man’s body back, stood up, and turned to Sapphire. “What the hell was that all about?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“He knew you, even knew your name and what you’re searching for.”
“He didn’t mention the godstone,” replied Sapphire. “He might have seen me around Amber City, might have heard my name.”
“Bullshit!” snapped Scorpio.
“You’re not thinking of quitting?” demanded Quintaro.
“I’ve got to discuss it with my partner,” said Scorpio. “We’ve been lied to, and I don’t know how or why.”
“We’ll go stand by that tree while you talk,” said Quintaro, taking Sapphire’s arm and starting off through the mud.
“Don’t bother,” said Scorpio. “You can’t hear us wherever you are.”
Well? thought Scorpio.
He wasn’t delusional, replied Merlin. He knew her, knew her name, knew she’s after the godstone. What makes no sense is that, as I say, he wasn’t delusional or delirious.
This whole thing doesn’t make any sense, thought Scorpio.
That’s what’s disturbing.
So do we quit or not?
It’s up to you.
Scorpio considered his options. I say we stay.
The money means that much to you? I mean, we can make it elsewhere. We always manage.
Right now the money’s got nothing to do with it. This is a hell of a mystery, and I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life wondering about it.
Merlin shrugged, a gesture that sent ripples down both of his sides. Okay.
Scorpio turned to Sapphire. “We’ll continue—for now.”
If he expected to see anything—gratitude, arrogance, any change of expression at all—he was disappointed.
“Then let’s get back to the vehicle and get started before it gets bogged down in the mud,” said Quintaro. “If there’s another group hunting for the stone, we don’t want to lose any time.”
Acting or telling the truth? asked Scorpio.
I keep telling you—he’s the dupe, she’s the brain. He hasn’t got enough sense to act, except when it comes to lying about paying us.
“All right,” said Scorpio. “Let’s climb back in.”
“What about him?” asked Quintaro, indicating the dead man.
“There won’t be a bone left by morning,” answered Scorpio. “And if we bury him in this muck, they’ll just dig him up five minutes after we’re gone.”
They reached the vehicle and were soon heading deeper into the jungle, with Sapphire directing Scorpio to make minor course corrections every few miles.
When it was too dark to go any farther, Scorpio tried to decide—as he did every night—whether they’d be safer on land or on the nearby river.
You ask every night, and my answer’s always the same: There’s stuff that can cause you problems either way, replied Merlin when Scorpio queried him.
Scorpio considered his options and decided to remain on the land. If something was going to sneak up and attack, it didn’t make much difference whether it hid in the thick jungle or beneath the surface of the water, but he would feel better defending himself on dry—well, soggy—land.
He tried to find a place where at least they couldn’t be attacked from above, but there was no escaping the huge, towering trees that gave shelter to arboreal predators. Finally he found an area that looked minimally flatter and more protected from the rain, and announced that they were spending the night there.
“Can’t you find something with less bugs, at least?” complained Quintaro.
“Shut up,” said Sapphire, coldly and emotionlessly, and Quintaro immediately fell silent.
The four of them sat in total silence for half an hour. Scorpio was about to drift off to sleep when something nudged his arm. He thought it was Merlin, but when he opened his eyes he found that it was Sapphire.
“Yeah?” he said.
She placed a finger to her lips. “Softly. There’s movement out there. Intelligent movement.”
He stared at her. “You sure it’s not the group our dead friend belonged to—the one with a blue woman named Sapphire?”
She stared at him for a long moment, no emotion crossing her face. Finally she said, “There are seven distinct sentient races on Venus.”
“That we know about,” he answered, staring at her meaningfully.
“The movement out there is directed by intellect,” she continued. “They are not human, and they have never heard of the godstone.”
“Then I say live and let live,” said Scorpio.
“Do not be a fool,” she said. “I would not awaken and warn you if there was no danger. They are creatures that are endemic to the jungle, and they prey on strangers.”
“They must be starving,” said Scorpio, unimpressed. “Nobody wanders through here without a purpose. That can’t afford them much sustenance.”