Humanx - Cachalot Part 42

Cora pa.s.sed the body and wondered at the unex- pectedly lethal talents of the wiry oceanographer. His athletic ability had been amply demonstrated. Mata- roreva, who knew more about such things, had reached the conclusion that Merced was somewhat more than merely athletic. But there was no time to discuss such mysteries now. The real problem at hand was far more prosaic in nature.

From the side of the cabin they had an excellent view of the rear deck. Two men were studying a dark gap into which an automatic crane was lowering a basket filled with cylinders of varying size. There was nothing resembling crew quarters. A couple of lumi- nescent panels completely lit the interior of the cabin.

That was good. It made it difficult for anyone inside to see into the blackness beyond.

Mataroreva bent around a comer and peered briefly into the chamber. He turned and held up a single fin- ger. Gestures and whispers followed. They would first attempt to silence the single inhabitant of the cabin.

Then they would rush the pair monitoring the loading.

If the one inside the cabin managed to cry out, Mer- ced would lead an immediate attack on the two load- ers. It was hoped that the other ship was anch.o.r.ed too far away to notice any screams.

They did not have as much success as Merced in sneaking up on their quarry. One of the men operat- ing the crane glanced back and stared straight at them.

For a long moment he simply stood there, a puzzled expression on his face. His companion might have proved more voluble if given time. Instead, he had only seconds in which to gaze at them in shock.

They were indeed not used to the presence of sur- vivors. It was good they were surprised as well as out- numbered. After so many days of moving horizontally through the water, the boarders had a difficult time running across a solid surface.

The second loader reacted. He wore nothing in the way of a weapon, so he hefted a slim, salt-stained cylinder full of supercooled argon and swung it in the general direction of the onrushmg Merced.

The scientist's leg came around in an unexpected arc to connect solidly with the loader's forearm. The cylinder fell to the deck. Without pausing, Merced continued to spin, flying through the air. His back foot landed on the other man's chin. The man collapsed like a waterlogged steak.

Meanwhile, Mataroreva had returned from forward and was able to help Cora and Rachael subdue their antagonist. Neither woman had any military training, but each was sufficiently enthusiastic to keep the first loader occupied until Mataroreva could arrive to fin- ish the job.

Breathing in long, painful gasps, Cora walked over to join Merced. "Odd sort of talent for a biologist to have. Do you find you have to knock out many fish?"

Merced grinned uncomfortably at her. "You know that sort of thing won't work underwater. Too much resistance. It's only a hobby. It's a good way to keep yourself in shape when you spend a lot of your time on your b.u.t.t studying tape chips."

"Uh-huh." Cora did not sound at all satisfied, though the explanation was perfectly sensible. She watched as Rachael finished hauling a container they had brought with them onto the deck. It contained the

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best of the food concentrates-no crew quarters likely meant no autochef-and, of course, her d.a.m.nable in- strument.

"In any case," Merced began, looking down specula- lively at the man with the shattered jaw, "I don't think

that..."

"What's the matter? Pucara?" The biologist was gaping past her. He made a funny sort of gargling noise. Then his eyes rolled up and he toppled over

onto his victim.

Spinning, Cora confronted two gelsuited figures standing on the foredeck. One flipped back her mask.

She had short blonde hair, an unfriendly grimace, and a tight grip on the handle of the weapon she cradled.

It was stubby of body, with an incongruously long bar- rel, all stinger and no bee. Cora recognized it readily enough. The gun was intended for underwater defense and used compressed gas to fire small darts. Each dart contained a powerful soporific. The intensity of the drug varied according to what one expected to have

to defend oneself against.

As the woman had just demonstrated, the weapon worked very efficiently out of the water. It was tubed to her gelsuit airsystem, powered by the carbon diox- ide from her own lungs.

Her slightly taller male companion stood alongside her. A similar device was held loosely in his left hand.

The other was peeling gelsuit.

"Where did you people spring from?" The woman's query was a mixture of resentment and surprise. "You, fat boy-hold it right there or it's sleepy time for you, too." Mataroreva, who had started edging toward the

railing, was forced to halt.

Rachael was kneeling alongside Merced, showing somewhat more than ordinary concern. "How strong

was the dosage, d.a.m.n you?"

"Not very. He'll sleep for a while and be good as new." The woman's tone turned threatening as she

studied the two bodies by the hold opening. "That's more than you can say for Solly and Chan-li."

"We're from-" Cora started to explain.

Dawn cut her off quickly. "We're the last survivors of Vai'oire. Don't talk to us about sympathy."

"That may be." The woman leaned against the in- ner wall of the cabin. Her companion, Cora saw to her dismay, was already yammering into the ship's trans- mitter. "It's no concern of mine. We'll let Hazaribagh decide whether it's necessary to know where you come from." She smiled meaningfully. "There's no doubt in my mind where you're going. Though I may be wrong."

"You've killed several thousand people," Cora said angrily. "Why pretend you're going to treat the five of us any differently?"

That caused the woman to frown. "We haven't killed anybody. At least, I don't think so."

"What are you talking about?"

"I said, we haven't killed anybody!" The woman, to Cora's great surprise, appeared honestly upset. "I think that's about enough talking." The muzzle of her weapon swung several degrees to starboard. "And if you take one more step, fat boy, I'm going to put one of these into you. At this range I couldn't miss."

Mataroreva, who had used the conversation to gain another couple of meters toward the cabin, said qui- etly, "You keep calling me fat boy, and I'll make that toy pistol into a necklace for you."

"Okay." She took a couple of nervous steps back- ward. "Standoff, then. You keep your feet still and I'll do the same with my mouth."

For all her initial bravado, the woman did not strike Cora as a coldblooded member of a band of ruthless killers. What was going on here?

Undoubtedly they would soon find out. Other divers appeared, to desuit on deck while muttering with seeming confusion about the presence of the five

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