Jo Clayton: Fire in the Sky

She eased the stunner from the holster in the middle of her back, sighted on him. She had to hit him full on the first time; it would take a large and protracted jolt to put him down. Before she was ready, he was up and gone.

She edged forward until she was close to a tree, hidden by the lichen webs that dropped thickly from the lower branches, settled herself to wait, praying as she did so that Marrin’s present luck would hold.

Once again she heard the crash of the Chav’s feet, got herself set.

He circled behind her this time, flashing through the trees, choosing an alternate route to keep Marrin confused. She froze, but he ran on without even a stutter in the pound of his feet. He was already out of sight before she recovered enough to start breathing again. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen her, though she was fairly well concealed by the lacy drape of the gray-green lichen, yet it had to be true because a tap on the firing sensor and she’d be in two pieces right now. He wouldn’t even have had to break stride.

Stick to your pattern, Chav. Stop trying to be clever. Come on. Come on, stomp right past Give me a shot O gods, Marrin must be half crazy wondering what happened to me. No, Shadow. Keep your mind on what you’re doing. This is no time to measure the whichness of the why.

She eased a little forward and tore a hole in the lichen veil.

The flikit had settled more since she’d left it, it was almost invisible down in the thornbush. The bush was

. lo Clayton too damp to catch fire, but it was smoldering as were a number of the trees around. There were no flames, just smears of stinking smoke that for the moment tended to give additional protection to Marrin since the thornbush thicket and the huge tree it grew around were for some reason at the center of a large glade. There was little shelter for the Chav. As she watched, Marrin followed the Spy’s beam pulse with one of his own.

For several moments the play was on the far side of the clearing, then she could hear the Chav heading her way. She drew in a long breath, held it, then let it trickle out slowly, counting as she did so, steadying the stunner on her forearm, waiting…

He came bounding through the trees, his head turned away; he was watching the thorn patch.

Shadith centered the stunner on him, swore in frustration as he flung himself back and to one side as a pulse from the thorns came at him. He retreated farther into the trees-Shadith stiffened, wondering if her luck would hold again-and turned back on his path, moving more silently this time, more slowly. Marrin had ears like a bat-she’d noticed more than once how acute his hearing was-that was probably the reason he’d kept the Chav off.

A moment later the Spy’s cutter pulsed, this time cutting at the thorns rather than the flikit.

A pause. Another cut.

Marrin answered, took a chance this time and held the beam longer than a pulse.

No response.

Shadith chewed her lip. What are you up to now?

Nothing and nothing. Not a sound from the Chav.

She heard the foof as a puff ball exploded, then a faint brushing sound. A moment later a dark solidity undulated swiftly along the ground. The Chav. Crawling.

Marrin, don’t you dare fire, I don’t care what you hear. That’s right, sweet spy, just a little closer, little little little…

She touched the trigger sensor, held her finger on it.

The Chav roared, fought to his feet and leaped toward her. She didn’t move. She kept the stunner full on him and prayed the power would last long enough. By the third step he was falling, he moved his foot clumsily for another step, tumbled onto his face.

She got to her feet, backed away several steps to put more distance between them. “Marrin,” she called. “He’s stunned. I don’t know how long it’ll last. Bring the come-alongs. If you can. I don’t want to take the stunner off him.”

“Shadow.” The relief his voice was almost a sob. “Don’t think I can do that. Something wrong with my legs.”

“Oh, kortch!” She edged around the Chav, keeping as far from him as she dared. She gave him a last shot from the stunner, ran limping toward the thorn patch trying to ignore the pain that shot up her leg. The ankle was badly swollen, she was going to have to cut the boot off her foot. What a clutch of ‘cripples. When she reached the edge of the thorn thicket, she said, “Weight them with something and toss me the ties. I want to turn our Spy into a package soon as I can. Oy! he’s fast. And I can see him pulling trees up by the roots and using them as quarterstaffs.”

When Marrin’s face showed above the thorns, it had a greenish undertone and his eyes a feverish glitter. His hand was shaking as he swung the bundle until he had some momentum then released it rather than threw it.

The comealongs were straps woven from Menaviddan monofilament inside a sheath of graal cloth to keep the filament from cutting to bone. With metal closures that could be shifted at need, then locked in place. And even a Chav’s full strength wouldn’t break the closures once they were in contact and activated.

She bound his wrists in front, used a second strap to link his elbows so he couldn’t move them from his sides. The third strap she used on his ankles, giving him enough play so he could shuffle along, but not enough for a full stride.

He showed no sign of coming round, but she didn’t trust that and got away from him as soon as she was finished with the tethering.

She limped back to the thorns and stood looking at the tree and remembering how easily she’d jumped, caught the limb and swung down. “Marrin, you still with us?”

“Just about.”

“Think you can get a line over that limb?” She pointed. “I can’t make it by myself.”

“What happened to your leg?” She could hear him shifting about, moving with a painful slowness.

“Stupidity. Stepped wrong on a slime patch and twisted my ankle.”

“Wondering what that smell was.”

“You should meet it up close and personal like I did.”

The rope came over the limb and snaking down to meet her hands. She got her hands set, began pulling herself up.

Kurz came to awareness slowly, head throbbing, inner eyelids half lowered, his body twitching. When his vision cleared enough, he found himself on his back, staring up at a sky full of dark clouds threatening rain. No, he thought as several drops splatted onto his face and arms. Not threatening. Doing it. His mouth twitched. What an odd thing to be thinking about. Rain. What…

He tried to move, but there was something holding his arms close to his sides, pinning his hands together.

He closed his eyes.

His body twitched again, he stopped seeing for an instant, thinking, existing… as if for that flicker of time neither he nor the world existed.

Stunner, he thought suddenly. It had happened to him a few times before, the same in-and-out spasms, the same agony in the head, the blurred vision.

He lifted his hands until he could see them, saw the comealong strap around his wrists. He couldn’t remember being stunned, but it had to be the Harper. She wasn’t in the flier, after all. I assumed she was. That was stupid of me.

His ears finally extruded and he could hear again. Voice. The Harper. She had a clarity of speech that made even a whisper travel and she wasn’t whispering. He listened.

“… no, Lan, we’re in fair shape, but not for walking out of the mountains.”

Sound of squeaky woman’s voice. Com voice. He couldn’t make out the words.

“That much, hum? Might be a problem keeping the prisoner in our hands if that’s the case.”