Heavy disappointment came to the offspring and was relayed to the Parent at this news. They had greatly hoped to take the spaceport by surprise as easily as they had the outlying food production zones. Somehow, they had been inefficient, incomplete, in their efforts to close down all information of the invasion. It was obvious that the vertebrates were preparing to do battle. Surface observations wouldn’t be enough to counter this enemy’s operations. All major targets had to be penetrated and compromised by shrades if reconnaissance was to be relied upon.

  This changed the objectives of the shrade’s mission. No longer was it so mission-critical that the shrade’s presence go undetected. Having completed her check upon the enemy state of readiness, the shrade propelled her wet body at a slapping gait toward the janitor’s door to the left of the stalls. Flattening herself and squeezing beneath the door, she found a ventilation duct in the janitor’s closet and removed the wire grate. She slithered into the open duct, vanishing into the depths of the terminal building.

  Finding a bank of tentacle-thick glowing tubes, the shrade delicately wrapped her snake-like body around them. The tubes carried the spaceport’s data-net, one of the old-fashioned optical liquid networks that had gone out of use in most colonies. Due to budgetary restrictions imposed by the Colonial Senate, however, the system was still in place here. With an oily sucking sound the shrade exuded one egg shaped pod onto each of the slick-surfaced tubes. The moment they were in place, the glistening pods flattened themselves a bit and then punctured the tubes with their eight-tined data-forks. A few droplets of milky fluid dribbled into the darkness before the pods sealed the holes they had created and began soaking in data.

  Transmitting at a very low frequency, the pods were quickly monitoring and relaying virtually all transmissions over the spaceport’s datanet. A steady information dump fed the Parent’s newly grown computers. It would take a considerable amount of time for all the information to be compiled, digested, cross-referenced and analyzed by the computers, they were really a bit young for this, but once the job was finished the Parent would have a diverse wealth of information concerning the enemy.

  #

  Late Friday morning Militia Dispatch finally got around to investigating the reports from Hofstetten of gunfire and screaming jaxes. A ground car pulled up at Dev’s place with militia officers Kwok and her partner Friedrich. The cruiser rolled up the gravel drive, engine idling softly.

  “I don’t see anything,” said Friedrich, “let’s just call in and get back to town.”

  Officer Kwok glanced over at her partner in disdain. She was the senior officer and Friedrich’s lack of respect for procedure often rubbed her the wrong way. “We’ll check it out, then go back.”

  She stopped the cruiser in front of the house and they both got out. Friedrich climbed out with a grunt, grumbling, “damned waste of time.”

  It was when they rounded the side of the house and saw the mess in the yard that they both became fully alert. Bloody tracks and the few bits of meat left by the trachs covered everything. An empty shoe lay on the porch steps.

  “What happened?” demanded Kwok, dragging out her pistol.

  Friedrich pulled his weapon out smoothly and stepped into the open, eyes sweeping the scene. “Can’t be just an early slaughter, too close to the breeding season. See the barn door? It’s wide open.”

  “But where are all the jaxes?”

  “Dev wouldn’t have sent his jaxes into the high pastures this time of year, not with all the landsharks hatching in the woods.”

  Kwok nodded, heading toward the shoe on the porch. “The screen door’s been crashed in. It looks like the boy’s shoe, here. Call in and report. Request a backup cruiser.”

  Friedrich tapped his earphone and called headquarters.

  “Could be someone hurt in there. We have to go into the house—now,” said Kwok. She looked Friedrich in the eye; both were scared.

  Together they entered the house, following the odd trail left by the killbeast the night before. The three-clawed holes in the kitchen tiles were particularly disturbing.

  Neither of them saw the culus that had flattened itself out against the roof of the barn, camouflaged to match the color of the shingles. When they moved out of sight, the culus rose up and dived from the roof, disappearing into the forest.

  Down in the cellar, the two officers and Sarah came within seconds of shooting one another in the dark.

  #

  Daddy ordered a second platter of roasted air-swimmers while Mudface sipped a slurry of glucose mixed with light mineral oils. The waiter took the order with a forced smile, tactfully waiting until he had turned away from the two before putting a perfumed hanky to his nose.

  “I won’t have this kind of thing. I don’t like coming down here and there’s going to be hell to pay,” said Daddy. Bits of roasted meat coated his fingers.

  “Yeah,” said Mudface. “Looks like she ran out on us.”

  “At the very least she screwed up and lost our shipment,” expounded Daddy, shaking a large forkful of meat at his son. “We can’t let people get the idea that we’re soft. Nobody pulls one over on the boys from Sharkstooth.”

  “I kinda liked her though,” complained Mudface. “A young man has plans, Daddy.”

  Anger brewed on Daddy’s face. His fatty jowls pulled down in deep folds. “Young man? Plans? What are you going to do, leak oil on her?”

  Mudface ignored the gibe. “So, we’re gonna kill her?”

  “No, we’re gonna do more than that,” said Daddy, his mood lifting. He munched another forkful of air-swimmer, then grinned. Dark flecks showed on his teeth. “We need plenty of pictures to hand around to people who might be getting funny ideas.”

  After dinner the two men moved into the bar and once the maitre’d told the bartender who they were, they were served two foaming mugs of beer. Mudface barely sipped the foam from his. He had to be careful as the alcohol went straight to his brain. They selected the sports net on the bar holo-plate. After a few minutes, a news update from Nexus News Network interrupted the rayball highlights.

  “Hey, that’s the witch now,” exclaimed Daddy, blowing beer all over the bar. The holo-plate wavered, then made automatic adjustments to clarify the image.

  Sarah and Bili were both shown in a news snippet concerning the mysterious disappearance of an entire farming family. The announcer explained that they had been connected with the failed smuggling attempt on Wednesday and were being held at the Hofstetten detention center for questioning. The cameras did a slow pan of the house, the yard and the bloody mess in the barn. Militia officer Choy came on for about three seconds, saying that a rogue landshark was probably responsible, that perhaps the family had tried to harbor landshark hatchlings and had paid the ultimate price.

  Mudface whistled and focused his optics on the holo-plate. “What the hell did she get herself into? They said something about another smuggler. Could we have some competition horning in on us here?”

  “We’ll find out,” said Daddy, blowing the top off another mug of beer. “We’ll find out everything.”

  #

  A long low limo pulled off the cross-colony highway and slid into Hofstetten’s main street. Governor Hans Zimmerman himself rode in the back, fuming. The limo floated up to the gates of the militia detention center and was quickly admitted.

  Irritably, Zimmerman brushed past the guard at the door, shoving his ID card at the duty Sergeant. Surprised, the Sergeant ran the card through the checker and nodded him through to the Captain’s office. The Captain, having only just gotten word of Zimmerman’s visit, was still busy shoving papers, holo-disks and bottles into his desk.

  “What a pleasant surprise this visit is, Governor,” he said, rubbing his hands together and snapping the top buttons of his uniform.

  “Cut the crap,” Zimmerman commanded, making a sweeping gesture. “I’m here to take custody of that woman and her kid.”

  “The ones from Dev’s farm?” asked the Captain, surprised.

  “Yes, yes, be quick about it, man.”

  “I must say, Governor, this comes as a shock.”

  “Yes,” sighed the Governor. “It’s a bit of a surprise for me, too.”

  “But our magistrate hasn’t even set bail yet, sir. They haven’t even been charged, although it looks like they’ll at least get smuggling and resisting arrest. We haven’t figured out what they had to do with the murders of the family of farmers.”

  “Murders? I thought the family had simply disappeared.”

  “Yes, well, the evidence shows that the family members were indeed killed, along with much of their jax herd.”

  “I’m too busy for such nonsense just now, Captain.”

  “But we haven’t even set bail yet, sir,” repeated the Captain with emphasis.

  Zimmerman glared at the man for several seconds. “So you want money, is that it?” He stifled the man’s protests with upraised hands, pulling out a checkbook. He keyed in his code and the device instantly spit out a five thousand credit voucher. “This will have to take care of it.”

  The Captain eyed the amount critically.

  “Well? Are you going to get them or do I have to order my deputies into your cellblock?” demanded Zimmerman.

  “I will get them, Governor,” said the Captain stiffly. “I must point out, however, that the amount is certainly less than what the magistrate would set for charges of such gravity. I assume, of course, that your office will be good for the difference in case anything, ah—unexpected should happen.”

  “Of course,” said Zimmerman. He made a dismissive gesture. “I must say that I find your demeanor less than cordial, Captain.”

  Tucking the credit voucher into his breast pocket, the Captain manufactured a smile. “If you would be so good as to wait in the outer office, I will have the prisoners delivered to you. The duty Sergeant will handle the required processing of codes. Oh, and by the way, do you wish them to be under restraints?”

  “Yes, certainly. Magnetic cuffs should be sufficient.”

  Sarah and Bili were hustled up the stairs and through the security gate. There they were greatly surprised to meet Governor Zimmerman, whose face they recognized from the holo-plate news snippets. He had with him three burly men wearing autoshades set to extra dark.

  Governor Zimmerman flagged a second limo, which pulled up behind the first. “If you two will excuse me,” he said, “I’m late for a dinner engagement.” He gave Bili an absent pat on the head and graced Sarah with a smile and a nod before climbing into his limo.

  The deputies still gripped Sarah’s elbow. She twisted her hands, but the magnetic cuffs held as if welded. “Where are you taking us?” she demanded. Loose strands of hair hung down into her face, matted with sweat.

  “Right this way, madam,” said one of the deputies, his eyes invisible behind his midnight-black shades. They were escorted to the second limousine and shoved into the back. The deputies popped the magnetic cuffs off and slammed the limo doors.

  Seated comfortably in the plush interior was the unmistakable fat form of Daddy. Mudface was driving, wearing a peaked driver’s cap. His idiot grin spread wider at Sarah’s expression of despair. He touched his cap to greet them.

  The two limos floated away in opposite directions. The culus that had followed Sarah and Bili from Dev’s farm detached itself from an exhaust chimney and slid through the air in silent pursuit.

  Twelve

  Outside the spaceport compound, Ari Steinbach was beside himself with frustration. He had assembled an army consisting of numerous squad cars, two heavy lifters, a crowd of militiamen with pistols and Wu hand-cannons, plus 1st tactical squad. His tactical team had taken the longest to gather, and a third of them were still unaccounted for. Most likely they were attending the militia officer’s banquet being held up at Fort Zimmerman tonight. They were probably not ignoring their beeping phones completely, but just taking their time in answering the summons. It was enough to make Steinbach grit his teeth in frustration. How had discipline become so lax? Why should they be enjoying good food and dancing while he sat out in the bitter cold, besieging a madman and gnawing on dried jax meat?

  Higher in priority than any of these things, of course, was the disposition of his satchel sitting in the lockers in the baggage claim section. It was too exposed there, he knew. If this whole thing got out of hand and heavy weapons were used, the satchel could easily be destroyed or lost. It was unnerving.

  He wanted to strike now, before the enemy got any stronger or more organized. With his tactical squad in full body armor and toting waist-mounted Wu automatic rifles, plus the militia back-up, he felt confident that they could wipe out the giants and the undisciplined security people. The problem was with Mai Lee’s instructions to wait for her support. To disobey her now, just before the arrival of her troops, could easily be a suicidal act.

  “Why don’t you move?” asked Major Drick Lee, smacking his small fist into his palm. “Send them in, before they call in Nexus-loyal Stormbringers from Fort Zimmerman.”

  “The pilots are preoccupied with the banquet tonight. Besides, our own loyal pilots outnumber the Nexus Tories,” Ari snapped back, not looking up from his field glasses. He studied the glass doors of the terminal building with interest. There was definitely a lot of activity in there. Benches, potted plants and luggage were being thrown up as barricades. He tried to get a glimpse of the lockers, but the angle wasn’t right.

  “Every minute they get more prepared.” Major Lee crossed his arms and huffed.

  “Maybe you want to lead the charge, eh?” shouted Ari. “I don’t want to hear any more whining! We wait!”

  Rolling his eyes, Major Lee leaned up against the hull of a lifter and said nothing.

  Ari seethed. Where was that ancient witch and her army of simians?

  #

  Sitting like a spider at the center of a great web of glittering datastreams, Mai Lee was one of the first humans on the planet to see a culus. It overflew her estate during her afternoon meditation, skirting the village and slipping over the moat and the flame-pits to peruse the outer battlements. Although her palace and the surrounding fortifications had the appearance of being a primitive place, built along the lines of ancient earth fortresses, its defenses were far from outdated. The culus was detected even as it circled the village. While it glided up to the outer walls a camera tracked its every movement.

  “I beg your Excellency’s pardon,” whispered a speaker hidden in the center of a new and exquisite flower arrangement crafted that very morning by the skalds of the palace.

  “I am meditating,” said Mai Lee, floating in free fall over a gravity repeller. The mere fact that she didn’t screech at the disruptive voice emanating from the clustered orchids indicated her good mood. Ever since the activities of the castle’s legendary dragon the night before, she had felt a rare inner calm. A smile played over her lips at the memory of last night’s excesses. “I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

  “May I explain the request, Excellency?” the orchids begged.

  Mai Lee cracked one eye and sighed. “Speak.”

  “The security drones have sighted a very odd intruder. It is currently examining the estate.”

  Mai Lee frowned slightly. “Send out a detachment of the guard to capture the spy. I will witness the interrogation and execution at my leisure. Must I give every instruction personally?”

  “Certainly not, Empress, but the situation is difficult. The intruder is not a man, but some form of living being that can fly.”

  Mai Lee snapped erect, the gravity repeller easing her down to the floor automatically. “Put it through on the holo-plate.”

  The chamber contained a large holo-plate, which dominated much of the floor space. Instantly, the decorative image of a tinkling waterfall and the three persimmon-colored hummingbirds that hovered over it vanished, replaced by a very different kind of flyer. The creature was shaped like a skate from the distant sea: it resembled an air-swimmer, but more flattened out and streamlined. It was a milky mottled brown in color with flapping wings and a hook-knife tail. A single orb on a flexible stalk roved over the landscape. While she watched it expertly wove its way through a copse of delicate gauzepines, soared over the flame-pits unconcernedly and then rose up to crest the outer walls.

  “What are its dimensions?” Mai Lee demanded. Her heart accelerated in her chest, already she was thinking of a prelude to assassination. Could this be some kind of new scout from her Zimmerman enemies?

  “The wingspan is something less than six feet. From the frontal eyestalk to the tip of its tail is just over four feet.”

  She frowned; observing the creature as it slid around the courtyard, a dim shadow against the walls. “Wasn’t it brown a moment before? It looks like gray stone now.”

  “Yes, it seems to automatically camouflage itself in flight, blending in with its surroundings. As a scout, it excels at its task. We only picked it up by accident.”

  She felt sure these things had been watching her for months. Mai Lee felt her tension return, all the work of her lengthy meditation had been undone. Irritably, she ordered the beast stunned and brought to her council chambers beneath the castle. It appeared that she would have to begin sleeping in the bunkers beneath the castle again. As she watched the creature investigated the fountain, the very fountain from under which she had driven her battlesuit the night before. There was an intelligence evident in the thing’s manner, a sense of direction and purpose. She was sure that it was alien to Garm and to her experience. Utterly alien.

  “Order the compliment of guards to return,” she said coming to a sudden decision. She had many enemies and consciously maintained a heavy tendency toward paranoia that had played a great role in keeping her alive for the past two centuries.