“Ferret, if you’d meant to ally with me, you’d have called while Dagger and I were swapping fire, and offered to help.”
“Waaah?” Ferret replied. “I heard you assholes shooting the wounded. I heard you. Then you came running past with the artifact, while Dagger looted the bodies. How stupid do you think I am?” He couldn’t believe Tirdal was even trying that line. Had Dagger sold him that thoroughly on the idea? Did he have that low an opinion of Ferret? The insult made him furious. Ferret was no political genius, nor very urbane, but he was intelligent and very good at his chosen specialty. He was reassured himself that moment by another scuff in the dirt. Dagger had passed this way.
What the hell was Tirdal playing? Did he think Ferret could be dismissed? If he really thought the two humans were a team, why wasn’t he more scared? Or did he have an ace for dealing with the sniper? That was likely why he was disturbed at Ferret’s existence. Ferret was another threat he hadn’t planned on. Except he knew already from Dagger.
Had Dagger not told him? Was it possible they were both playing their own games with that box? That was an idea. Dagger had fragged the team, Tirdal had taken the moment to swipe the box. Now they were both fighting each other. So Ferret would only have to fight one at a time, because neither was going to lend a hand. That was a good theory, and would explain why they weren’t traveling together. His thoughts were interrupted by Tirdal speaking.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Ferret. Which is why I’m not going to listen to you try to ally with me at this point. I’ve seen the technique on human vid shows. Dagger plays malicious and evil, you play honorable. I won’t be swayed. Now, do you have anything valid to input? Or shall we resume the hunt?”
That taunting question threw Ferret back into a rage. He couldn’t believe Tirdal, holding the billion credit box, was going to play innocent victim. “Oh, it’s a hunt all right,” Ferret replied. “And you can just fucking die, Darhel.”
“That’s been the plan all along, Ferret. It is unfortunate that it takes two humans to equal one Darhel. Goodbye.”
“You asshole!” Ferret near-shouted into his microphone, barely remembering his noise discipline.
There was no reply.
Tirdal let his Sense and senses reach out into the darkness. Without the undisciplined thoughts of humans shouting at him from mere meters away, he could feel the environment. It was raw and primal, but not unfriendly. Few of the insectoids noticed his presence, save as the passage of a creature. He was too large for most to be concerned with, and did not display the chemical signs of threat. To others, he did not appear as prey, and was thus ignored. Some felt his movement and became alert, seeking a meal, but in all cases it was simple hunger, no hatred or anger. There was only one glowing flame of anger out there, and it was far away. Distant it was, though white-hot in its intensity. Ferret wasn’t discernible yet. Tirdal focused his Sense and sought.
There. Behind Dagger, and very faint. So Ferret was playing catch-up. Nor was he as obsessed as Dagger. He would be hard to track, but was farther away, so less of a threat. It was likely the two of them would meet up shortly. That would increase the threat. What Tirdal would have to watch for would be the two of them spreading out to channel him.
It was possible they weren’t really allies, but from Tirdal’s viewpoint, they were both threats. He’d have to be certain he didn’t get into terrain that would help pin him for one or the other. Both wanted him dead.
There weren’t any other humans. He made sure. It was disturbing that Ferret had snuck past his awareness, as close as he’d been for much of it. It might be that the pain of the neural effect had stunned him, though a mind in pain should have registered. Possibly the collective shriek from four other human minds had drowned him out. Still, it wouldn’t do to rely on his Sense alone. It clearly had limits.
There were no other humans, but there was hunger. He was being followed, flanked, stalked by several larger predators and at least one mammalian flyer. He could feel the approaches, most of which veered off as he left a particularly defined territory or simply moved beyond the range to be interesting. There were some, though, that were steadily closing. Occasionally, one would drop out of the pursuit, only to be replaced by another.
Then there was that one. It was moving closer and the hunger it felt was strong, driving. It was going to attack, he felt sure. That was a crisis, but one he could deal with. Summoning the Jem discipline, he forced the tal to a lower level, anticipating its surge when he killed. He hefted his punch gun and prepared to respond. It would be soon, he felt. The creature was to his left and running, now was agitated and there was an animal eagerness.
Now. The charge came as he passed a thick tree bole. The animal was in mid leap, chittering very softly, and in a trajectory to seize Tirdal by the head. That was also a trajectory that put it in perfect position for a punch gun shot, though there was no way such a primitive form could anticipate what was about to happen.
Tirdal turned to meet the rush, raised his weapon and shot. The shot would have been instructive to a human observer. It was smooth, effortless, and caught the animal right in the underside of its head as Tirdal dropped underneath its path. It was not the shot of a clumsy creature unable to kill.
Then Tirdal got slapped by his Sense.
The insect in question was the local evolutionary equivalent of a leopard. It was a large, competent solo hunter with good instincts and high intelligence. It had consciousness and self-awareness, and it reacted to the shot. As Tirdal’s shot had been perfectly placed, its mind screamed in agony at having most of its face burned off. Then it landed on that face and tumbled so as to break its neck.
DEATH! Tirdal felt it, staggered, dropped. Feedback through his Sense let him feel the creature’s swift but painful end. Stabbing electric icicles drove into his brain from the violent, emotional outburst, and tal squirted into his bloodstream. It met the pain, washed it aside as a flood does debris, and roared toward his brain and self. He didn’t even feel the damaged edges of his chest plate grind against nerves.
He was on all fours, shaking, quivering, moaning as delicious tremors rolled over him and heat flushed out from the base of his skull. He’d left himself exposed to the creature’s emotions, and now was receiving the rewards. It was sweet, and no longer cloying but thick and syrupy. But it moved with such speed, he was overwhelmed and couldn’t respond.
Lintatai. He could feel it. He’d thought he’d felt it while sucking meat from crablike claws, but that was a shadow of this. It suffused his entire being, rippling down his spine and out to his toes and fingertips. It rolled in waves through his brain until he could see and hear it, as powerful as a tropical storm over the ocean.
Then it stopped. It didn’t retreat, but it grew no more powerful, as some hidden part of his determination slammed down doors on his Sense and halted the influx. His iron discipline and training yanked him to an eddy in the wash, where he could maintain his Self just long enough to think. He rode the crest, slipped behind it and floundered for only a moment. Then he was in control. He was still awash in a sea of powerful sensations, but he was alert and aware.
He’d thought he was gritting his teeth, but had sliced into his lower lip when he bit down. Wet earth was abrading his cheek and in his nostrils. Tendrils of weeds curled over him, twitching in the breeze of his tortured breathing. All these were real, present and he clutched at them for strength. The cool air. The darkness. He’d voided himself as he lost control, but even as unpleasant as that was, it was a real sensation. He thought to reach out, but his self-control took over. No Sense. None at all. The risk of attack was less dangerous than that of any more tal.