Frank Herbert - The Green Brain

Joao whirled to stare at the Irmandade airtruck. It was beginning to tip crazily over onto its left side. “Padre!” he barked. “Tommy! Vince! Get…” He broke off as the truck sagged over even farther.

“It’s only fair to warn you,” Rhin said, “to stay away from the edge of the ditch unless you first spray the opposite side. They can shoot that acid stream at least fifteen meters… and as you can see”—she nodded toward the airtruck—“the acid eats metal and even plastic.”

“You’re insane,” Joao said. “Why didn’t you warn us immediately? We could’ve…”

“Warn you?”

Her blond companion said, “Dr. Kelly, perhaps we’d…”

“Be quiet, Hogar,” she said. She glared at the man. “Isn’t it time you looked in on Doctor Chen-Lhu?”

“Travis? Is he here?” Joao asked.

“He arrived yesterday with one companion, since deceased,” she said. “They were searching for us. Unluckily, they found us. Dr. Chen-Lhu probably will not live through this night.” She glared at her Nordic companion. “Hogar!”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man said. He shrugged, headed for the tents.

“We lost eight men to your playmates, bandeirante,” Rhin said. She looked at the small group of Irmandades. “Our lives are little enough to pay now for the extinction of eight of you… traitors!”

“You are insane,” Joao said, and he felt the beginnings of a crazy anger in himself. Chen-Lhu here… dying? That could wait. First there was work to do.

“Stop playing innocent, bandeirante,” Rhin said. “We’ve seen your companions out there. We’ve seen the new playmates you bred… and we understand that you were too greedy; your game has gotten out of hand.”

“You’ve not seen my Irmaos doing these things,” Joao said. He looked at Thome. “Tommy, keep an eye on these insane ones. Don’t permit them to interfere with us.” He lifted a sprayrifle and spare charges from one of his men, indicated the other three armed men. “You—come with me.”

“Jefe, what do you do?” Vierho asked.

“Salvage what we can from the truck,” Joao said.

Vierho sighed, took one of the sprayrifles and charges, motioned their owner to stay with Thome.

“Sure, go get yourselves killed,” Rhin said. “Don’t think we’ll interfere with that!”

Joao stopped himself from turning on her with a burst of outraged curses. His head ached with the anger and the need to suppress it. Presently he walked toward the ditch nearest the stranded airtruck, laid down a hard mist of foamal in the grass beyond, beckoned the others to follow and leaped the ditch.

Later, Joao did not like to think about that time in the savannah. They were out little more than twenty minutes before retreating to the island of tents. Joao and his three companions were acid burned, Vierho and Lon seriously. And they’d salvaged less than an eighth of the material in the truck—mostly food. The salvage did not include a transmitter.

The attack came from all sides, from creatures hidden in the tall grass. Foamal immobilized them temporarily. None of the sprayrifle poisons seemed to do more than slow the creatures. The attack stopped only when the men were safely back behind the ditch.

“It’s evident the devils went first for our communications equipment,” Vierho gasped. “How could they know?”

“I don’t want to guess,” Joao said. “Stand still while I treat those burns.” Vierho’s cheek and shoulder were badly splashed with acid, his clothing peeling away in smoking tatters.

Joao spread neutralizer salve over the area, turned to Lon. The man already was losing flesh off his back, but he stood there panting, waiting.

Rhin came up to help with the treatment and bandaging, but refused to speak, even to answering the simplest questions.

“Do you have any more of this salve?”

Silence.

“Have you taken any samples of the acids?”

Silence.

“How was Chen-Lhu injured?”

Silence.

Presently, Joao touched up three splash burns on his left arm, neutralized the acid and covered the injuries with flesh-tape. He gritted his teeth against the pain, stared at Rhin. “Where are these chigua specimens you killed?”

Silence.

“You are a blind, unprincipled megalomaniac,” Joao said, speaking in an even tone. “Don’t push me too far.”

Her face went pale, and the green eyes blazed, but her lips remained closed.

Joao’s arm throbbed, his head ached and he felt there was something vaguely wrong with every color he saw. The woman’s silence enraged him, but the rage was like something happening to another person. The odd feeling of detachment persisted even after he recognized it.

“You act like a woman who needs violence,” Joao said. “Would you like to be turned over to my men? They’re a little tired of you.”

He found the words strange even as he spoke them—as though he’d wanted to say something else and these words had forced themselves out.

Rhin’s face flamed. “You wouldn’t dare!” she grated.

“Ah, we can speak,” he said. “Don’t be melodramatic, though. I wouldn’t give you the pleasure.”

Joao shook his head; that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say at all.

Rhin glared at him. “You… insolent…”

Joao found himself producing a wolfish grin, saying, “Nothing you say will make me turn you over to my men.”

The silence that followed was filled with sense of drawing apart—farther, farther. Joao felt that Rhin actually was growing smaller. He grew aware of a distant roaring, wondered if it was a sound in his own ears.

“That roaring,” he said.

“Jefe?”

It was Vierho directly behind him.

“What is that roaring?” Joao asked.

“It’s the river, Jefe; a chasm.” Vierho pointed to a black rock escarpment rising distantly above the jungle. “When the wind is right we hear it. Jefe?”

“What is it?” Joao felt a surge of anger at Vierho. Why couldn’t the man speak right out?

“A word with you, Jefe.” Vierho drew him toward the blond Nordic who was standing outside one of the tents. The man’s face looked gray except around the acid burn on his cheek.

Joao looked back at Rhin. She had turned away from him, stood with her arms folded. The stiffness of her back, the pose, all of it struck Joao as almost humorous. He suppressed laughter, allowed himself to be led up to the blond fellow. What had she called him? Ahh, Hogar . Yes, Hogar.

“The gentleman here”—Vierho indicated Hogar—“says the female doctor was bitten by insects that got past their barriers.”

“The first night,” Hogar whispered.

“She has not been the same since,” Vierho said. “In the head, you understand? We humor her, Jefe, no?”

Joao wet his lips with his tongue. He felt dizzy and warm.

“The insects that bit her were similar to the ones that were on you,” Hogar said. His voice sounded apologetic.

He’s making fun of me! Joao thought.

“I wish to see Chen-Lhu,” Joao said. “At once.”

“He was badly poisoned and burned,” Hogar said. “We think he is dying.”

“Where is he?”

“In the tent here, but I…”

“Is he conscious?”

“Senhor Martinho, he is conscious but not in condition for any prolonged…”

“I give the orders here!” Joao snapped.

An odd look passed between Hogar and Vierho.

Vierho said, “Jefe, perhaps…”

“I will see Doctor Chen-Lhu now!” Joao said. He brushed past Hogar and into the tent.

The place was a gloomy hole after the morning sunlight outside. It took an instant for Joao’s eyes to adjust themselves. In that instant, Hogar and Vierho joined him in the tent.