LITMIR.BIZ

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Mia challenged. “Couldn’t we? Not today, but what about tomorrow? You’ll see. Because I think the Army is getting ready to invade the alien system!”

      “The people won’t support them,” Ri answered woodenly.

      “Think. If he tells them to, they will. They trust him.”

      Ri looked around at the shadows.

      “That explains a lot of things,” Mia said. “I think the Army’s been preparing for this for a long time. From the first, maybe. That’s why Extrone cut off our trade with the aliens. Partly to keep them from learning that he was getting ready to invade them, but more to keep them from exposing him to the people. The aliens wouldn’t be fooled like we were, so easy.”

      “No!” Ri snapped. “It was to keep the natural economic balance.”

      “You know that’s not right.”

      Ri lay down on his bed roll. “Don’t talk about it. It’s not good to talk like this. I don’t even want to listen.”

      “When the invasion starts, he’ll have to command all their loyalties. To keep them from revolt again. They’d be ready to believe us, then. He’ll have a hard enough time without people running around trying to tell the truth.”

      “You’re wrong. He’s not like that. I know you’re wrong.”

      Mia smiled twistedly. “How many has he already killed? How can we even guess?”

      Ri swallowed sickly.

      “Remember our guide? To keep our hunting territory a secret?”

      Ri shuddered. “That’s different. Don’t you see? This is not at all like that.”

      With morning came birds’ songs, came dew, came breakfast smells. The air was sweet with cooking and it was nostalgic, childhoodlike, uncontaminated.

      And Extrone stepped out of the tent, fully dressed, surly, letting the flap slap loudly behind him. He stretched hungrily and stared around the camp, his eyes still vacant-mean with sleep.

      “Breakfast!” he shouted, and two bearers came running with a folding table and chair. Behind them, a third bearer, carrying a tray of various foods; and yet behind him, a fourth, with a steaming pitcher and a drinking mug.

      Extrone ate hugely, with none of the delicacy sometimes affected in his conversational gestures. When he had finished, he washed his mouth with water and spat on the ground.

      “Lin!” he said.

      His personal bearer came loping toward him.

      “Have you read that manual I gave you?”

      Lin nodded. “Yes.”

      Extrone pushed the table away. He smacked his lips wetly. “Very ludicrous, Lin. Have you noticed that I have two businessmen for guides? It occurred to me when I got up. They would have spat on me, twenty years ago, damn them.”

      Lin waited.

      “Now I can spit on them, which pleases me.”

      “The farn beasts are dangerous, sir,” Lin said.

      “Eh? Oh, yes. Those. What did the manual say about them?”

      “I believe they’re carnivorous, sir.”

      “An alien manual. That’s ludicrous, too. That we have the only information on our newly discovered fauna from an alien manual—and, of course, two businessmen.”

      “They have very long, sharp fangs, and, when enraged, are capable of tearing a man—”

      “An alien?” Extrone corrected.

      “There’s not enough difference between us to matter, sir. Of tearing an alien to pieces, sir.”

      Extrone laughed harshly. “It’s ‘sir’ whenever you contradict me?”

      Lin’s face remained impassive. “I guess it seems that way. Sir.”

      “Damned few people would dare go as far as you do,” Extrone said. “But you’re afraid of me, too, in your own way, aren’t you?”

      Lin shrugged. “Maybe.”

      “I can see you are. Even my wives are. I wonder if anyone can know how wonderful it feels to have people all afraid of you.”

      “The farn beasts, according to the manual....”

      “You are very insistent on one subject.”

      “... It’s the only thing I know anything about. The farn beast, as I was saying, sir, is the particular enemy of men. Or if you like, of aliens. Sir.”

      “All right,” Extrone said, annoyed. “I’ll be careful.”

      In the distance, a farn beast coughed.

      Instantly alert, Extrone said, “Get the bearers! Have some of them cut a path through that damn thicket! And tell those two businessmen to get the hell over here!”

      Lin smiled, his eyes suddenly afire with the excitement of the hunt.

      Four hours later, they were well into the scrub forest. Extrone walked leisurely, well back of the cutters, who hacked away, methodically, at the vines and branches which might impede his forward progress. Their sharp, awkward knives snickered rhythmically to the rasp of their heavy breathing.

      Occasionally, Extrone halted, motioned for his water carrier, and drank deeply of the icy water to allay the heat of the forest, a heat made oppressive by the press of foliage against the outside air.

      Ranging out, on both sides of the central body, the two businessmen fought independently against the wild growth, each scouting the flanks for farn beasts, and ahead, beyond the cutters, Lin flittered among the tree trunks, sometimes far, sometimes near.

      Extrone carried the only weapon, slung easily over his shoulder, a powerful blast rifle, capable of piercing medium armor in sustained fire. To his rear, the water carrier was trailed by a man bearing a folding stool, and behind him, a man carrying the heavy, high-powered two-way communication set.

      Once Extrone unslung his blast rifle and triggered a burst at a tiny, arboreal mammal, which, upon the impact, shattered asunder, to Extrone’s satisfied chuckle, in a burst of blood and fur.

      When the sun stood high and heat exhaustion made the near-naked bearers slump, Extrone permitted a rest. While waiting for the march to resume, he sat on the stool with his back against an ancient tree and patted, reflectively, the blast rifle, lying across his legs.

      “For you, sir,” the communications man said, interrupting his reverie.

      “Damn,” Extrone muttered. His face twisted in anger. “It better be important.” He took the head-set and mike and nodded to the bearer. The bearer twiddled the dials.

      “Extrone. Eh?... Oh, you got their ship. Well, why in hell bother me?... All right, so they found out I was here. You got them, didn’t you?”

      “Blasted them right out of space,” the voice crackled excitedly. “Right in the middle of a radio broadcast, sir.”

      “I don’t want to listen to your gabbling when I’m hunting!” Extrone tore off the head-set and handed it to the bearer. “If they call back, find out what they want, first. I don’t want to be bothered unless it’s important.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      Extrone squinted up at the sun; his eyes crinkled under the glare, and perspiration stood in little droplets on the back of his hands.

      Lin, returning to the column, threaded his way among reclining bearers. He stopped before Extrone and tossed his hair out of his eyes. “I located a spoor,” he said, suppressed eagerness in his voice. “About a quarter ahead. It looks fresh.”

      Extrone’s

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