“Fascinating,” Tirdal replied. “I’m sure a psychiatrist — is that what you call them? — would have a fine time analyzing your neuroses. Or are they psychoses? I’m not up on human mental ailments. There are just too many of them to keep track of. You may even harbor some as-yet unknown ones. But your cupidity tells me you’d make a rather good Darhel, or at least what you think of as a Darhel.”
Dagger was panting now, and not from exertion. Dammit, why was he having a panic attack over this? He had those when confronting things. That was the point of being a sniper, the point of keeping people terrified. It avoided confrontation. And the Darhel was in the next county, he told himself. He shouldn’t be twitching like this. “W-what,” he said, then got control, “you’re just going to turn it in for a reward? Not even a finder’s fee? What kind of Darhel does that make you?”
Again, no hesitation before the reply. “The kind with pride in himself, his clan and his race. Not to mention the survival of his race. And your race, Dagger. There are Fringe planets with contacts to species we don’t have proper relations with. Do you really want them having access to whatever is in there?”
“How altruistic,” Dagger replied. “All thought for others. Selflessness and charity. You’d make a wonderful human wuss.”
“And with that insult, Dagger, we are done for now. Goodbye.”
“Tirdal? Tirdal? Come back you cowardly little Elf, we aren’t done talking!” he shouted.
It appeared, however, that they were, for now.
Chapter 12
Ferret’s legs weren’t hurting as much. He figured that was good, tactically. He was almost back to a reasonable pace, and had tossed the crutch. He was still limping as he moved, but he was moving by himself. Medically, he figured the lessening pain presaged massive tissue damage from gangrene or something similar. He actually might survive if he could get these two beaten and call the pod. There were good AI medical facilities aboard. He still considered that tantalizing chance, now far behind him, of using Doll’s transmitter for backup. He really, personally, didn’t care if a war started, instead of all this back and forth. But command would not be happy with his sorry ass, even if he survived. Anyway, it was only a chance, and he’d abandoned that for this track. Fretting wasn’t going to help.
The voice in his earphones surprised him. “So, Ferret, how are you doing?”
He clamped his mouth tightly shut, lips thin. The longer he could wait before speaking to Dagger, the more of a threat he’d appear. Let Dagger get scared. That was a weapon all by itself.
“Ferret? I know you’re there, you half-assed moron.”
Nothing. And Dagger was sounding a bit distressed.
“Okay, Ferret, I’ll play your game. Just wait until I see a glimpse of you again. It’ll be the last. Goodbye.”
Dagger had definitely been disturbed. Good.
The signs on his tracker were not making sense. They still showed Tirdal to be several minutes, almost half an hour, ahead of Dagger. Dagger was about a half hour ahead of Ferret. So why hadn’t Tirdal stopped to let Dagger catch up? They’d still have plenty of lead.
Of course, they didn’t know how far ahead of Ferret they were. Dagger was likely playing for time, hoping Ferret’s wounds would do him in.
Unless they planned to spread out and make Ferret choose, so they could envelope him. If so, it was even more important that he keep silent. He was the best tracker of the three.
He wished he knew what they were planning though. And that he had someone to talk to. And that it would stop hurting.
Tirdal left Dagger to fret. What was the human expression? “Stew in his own juices.” That was it. And it was doubly appropriate. This level of exertion caused tremendous metabolic stress and perspiration. From what he knew of human physiology and medical treatment, it had to be about as unpleasant for Dagger. Which was good. Dagger might handle the heat better, but Tirdal had greater stamina and resistance, he was sure. The worse things got here, the more advantageous it would be.
There was danger, he admitted. Dagger could track better, and had a weapon with much greater range. He also sounded completely insane at this point. Had he been already, and it was simply surfacing now? Had it been hidden by a social façade? Or was it something latent, triggered by his impulsive actions? Did being alone emphasize human emotions? That was always true to some extent, but was it worse in this instance?
No time for that now, he thought. It was time to put kilometers between them, and stay in the woods while doing so. He rose carefully back to his feet and secured the artifact, then resumed his march. Behind him was the shell of his lunch, its legs still occasionally twitching even though there was no body or mind attached to it. Insects were so barely sentient they were very hard to kill properly. Whereas sentient animals were easy to kill, in theory, except for that mental activity involved.
The local sun was well on its way down. That would change things immensely. He could see innately better than Dagger, but Dagger was very skilled with night vision. Also, Tirdal’s hotter metabolism would shine in that night vision. However, Dagger had now been awake for nineteen hours. Certainly he could go longer, but aside from thirst and hunger, Tirdal wasn’t particularly stressed. And Dagger was. The situation should change in Tirdal’s favor shortly. All that was needed was calm and patience. The waves turn rock to sand. Sand smoothes all signs. Be as the waves; persistent, calm, undeterred…
Dagger was furious at being cut off and ignored. It was a pity those assholes hadn’t bought it with the rest, because they were really sticking him in the ass. Some alien freak and the FNG were causing him, him! to change plans and waste time. The jumped up twerps seemed to think that they not only were relevant, but were some kind of martyrs.
The anger helped a little with other things, too. His heart was thumping as he strode along. One of his secret phobias when young was the dark. He’d thought he was over it. He’d been through nighttime training, done the survival school gig, been on hundreds of exercises and a dozen real world missions. He started as a branch reached out and stroked his cheek, then he thrust it away roughly. He wasn’t afraid, dammit. He kept the anger fresh in his mind, but it was fading, albeit slowly.
But human settlements always had some light and bustle at night. The populous planets had enough light pollution so that one could always see the warm glow of a city on the horizon. Military encampments had generators and activity. Here, there was absolutely nothing. Nothing except that Blob site, all holograms. Nothing except local creatures that would eat him. No one but the Darhel, fleeing him, though he had made his threats sound real. No one but Ferret, who was out there but not talking. No one but the ghosts of his former teammates. His mind was playing tricks on him. There was the trancelike beat of Gun Doll’s music. Gorilla’s snores came to him, and the captain’s cynical presence and Shiva’s calm. He turned to look behind him, as he had every couple of minutes. There was nothing behind him, and he knew it, but it was spooky as hell out here. And there might be something behind him, with those local creepie-crawlies.
In truth, anyone would have been afraid. It hit every evolutionary button humans have. It was dark, too quiet, full of threats and lonely. But Dagger’s ego had never seen it in those terms. He’d been suppressing his weaknesses behind a mask for so long that their appearance terrified him. One must face fears to overcome them, and Dagger had spent his life avoiding them.
But he had to keep moving. The frigging Darhel was still humping away, damn him. When would the little rat tire? A hazy part of his mind recalled that the Darhel was alleged to have maxed the course, and he started to wonder if that was true. Then he realized that maxing it didn’t indicate an upper limit on the bastard’s abilities, but a lower one. That was frightening.