He’d given half his gaze to the student, half to the teacher, and replied, “You just superimpose a target over their forehead and shoot the target.” Her expression had been precious.
And Tirdal was about to get a target superimposed on him. As soon as Dagger relocated the little freak.
Dagger raised his scope and its panoply of sensors and got to work, sitting cross-legged in the grass. He kept an eye out for intrusions or threats, because there were a couple of superbeetles wandering around in the middle distance. It wouldn’t do to have one of them attack or even just spook him. Ferret would recognize a spook if he saw one, and close in on him. Tirdal might not, but even so, it didn’t fit Dagger’s image of his own competence.
The box was over there. He squinted down to take a cursory look, then raised the rifle slowly until the scope covered that same area. It was a sandy riverbank, and apparently Tirdal was keeping below the crest of it. There was movement, lots of movement of animals burrowing through the tall grass. No particular one stood out. Tirdal was there somewhere, but Dagger wasn’t able to tell for sure. Still, sooner or later he’d show himself. Dagger lowered the scope, and grabbed cords from a front pocket of his harness. The first plugged the tracer into his helmet display. That would make it easier to follow. The second plugged into the scope, so he could snag a quick look at magnification or in various spectra to zero in. He’d raise the rifle to proper position to shoot, of course, but in the meantime the scope would serve extra duty.
Now it was time to wait. It was warm though not hot, but between exercise and sunlight, Dagger was sweating. At least he was still sweating. If the sweats stopped, it meant heat exhaustion, followed shortly by death. There was no one here to treat him.
Ferret noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. “Shit, Tirdal, you’ve got a flock of giant bats moving in.”
There was a moments’ pause before Tirdal replied, “I see them. They are not overhead yet, though.”
“I think they will be soon. What happened on the way in? Do you remember what the captain said about them?” There were six of the things, circling in the sun and moving across the savanna. They obviously saw something they liked. Ferret realized he was actually afraid it might be Tirdal. Of course, the same things might come after him shortly.
“I missed that discussion also, Ferret. I think it was between the captain and Gorilla,” Tirdal said. “But there’s nothing I can do about them at this point.”
“Tirdal!” he said urgently. “They’re not only carnivorous, but if Dagger figures out they’ve spotted you, you’re toast.”
“I realize that,” was the calm reply. “However, there is nothing I can do at this point,” he repeated. “I am open to suggestions.”
Ferret thought it was rather obvious. “Shoot them some bait,” he said. “If they have fresh meat they don’t have to worry about, they’ll ignore you.”
“Of course,” Tirdal said. “If I could find game within range that I could kill with a punch gun, that would be an excellent suggestion.” There was a moment’s hesitation before he said, “And if I could withstand another psychic blow from killing something that has a consciousness.”
It hit Ferret at once. Of course. There were a lot of sensat Darhel. It seemed as if they were all that way. Everyone had assumed that it was mostly their sensats volunteered, but there didn’t seem to be any that weren’t. If the emotions of those around them were present like that, no wonder they avoided crowds. And no wonder it was hard to kill, or be around killing. “Ah, hell, Tirdal,” he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Nor were you supposed to, Ferret. Nor any humans. But it’s somewhat obvious now and still leaves me in a quandary. If you can get close enough to perhaps hit one, I will trust you to do so. Especially as I don’t have much choice.”
Ferret thought about that for just a moment. “Tirdal, as soon as one of us fires, Dagger will track the shot. So we want to shoot at him only. If he isn’t ducking bolts, he’s going to be shooting back.” Meanwhile, the pterosaur flyers were steady. They seemed to have acquired a target.
“Patching through,” Tirdal said and at once, Ferret could hear Dagger say, “So, Tirdal, the flappies tell me you smell like chicken yourself.”
“What are you referring to, Dagger?” Tirdal asked, pushing just a hint of curiosity into his voice.
Either it wasn’t good enough, or Dagger was too shrewd to be misled. “They’re circling over you, my friend.”
“Oh, those,” Tirdal said. “I see them, Dagger. Some distance away. Ferret might be there, as he seemed nearly dead last time I spoke to him. Why don’t you go investigate?” Ferret snickered under his breath. Yes, Dagger, go investigate and I’ll shoot your sorry ass in the back.
“I really don’t think so, Tirdal,” Dagger said.
“No? Why don’t you call him, then? Ferret seems to have stopped responding, and I can’t Sense him anymore. In fact, he was rather weak the entire way through this.”
“Right. I’m not as dumb as you look, Elf. But I will see you soon.”
“As you keep saying, Dagger. It’s been over three days now. You make promises like a human politician.”
“Bye, Elf,” Dagger said. The channel closed.
Tirdal said, “Well, Ferret, that’s where we stand.”
“Yeah,” Ferret said. Just then, Dagger called him. He patched it back to Tirdal as a courtesy.
“Oh, Ferret, are you there?”
Ferret kept totally still as Dagger continued, “I’m about to take a shot at the Darhel. You know I’ll get him. And then, buddy, pal, I’m not going to kill you. I’m just going to leave you here. I don’t reckon you can last six weeks of transit time back, plus six more weeks of transit time here, assuming anyone decides to corroborate our findings. You might want to just do yourself now, or snuggle up to the Blob base and hope for a nice clean nuke.”
He absolutely burned to call the man a psychopath, a freak, a piece of shit, anything. But he had to say absolutely nothing. He gritted his teeth and took it.
“Very well, Ferret. If you’re dead, you won’t notice. Rest in peace.”
The channel closed, and at once Ferret said, “Tirdal, I think we all know where we stand now.”
“Yes, Ferret. Very much,” was the reply.
“Fine. But when we bag this son of a whore, you are going to tell me why you have the box.”
“Ferret, unlike Dagger, I won’t lie to you. That information is not going to be available. There are things I cannot discuss, just as you have things in the Republican Army you can’t tell Darhels. But we do know where we stand regarding Dagger.”
Sighing in frustration and pain, Ferret said, “Okay, Tirdal. I’ll trust you for now. But I have no ideas about those flyers.”
“Nor I,” Tirdal said.
Dagger sat patiently, waiting. It was what he was best at. He often got frustrated on long crawls or chases, but not while waiting. There was always a payoff in a good shot. The sun was bright, his gear chafing and his helmet was heavy. He’d take that off, not being worried about incoming fire, except that he needed the imaging screen. The discomfort was minor enough. His cottony mouth and cracked lips were far more annoying, as was the rumble in his belly and the fatigue dragging at his eyelids. He kept twitching from tiredness, almost asleep and then back awake.