[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
snugged the hip belt and used the head band, too, he could distribute the mass
well. However, he'd be less flexible thus constrained.
Likely he'd just have to take the mass on his shoulders and deal with it.
To that end, he should remove excess mass. There were things in there he was
not, frankly, going to need for this. He reached in and started sorting.
He was going to change suits, he decided. The damaged one could be left
behind. He pondered for a moment, but yes, it could. Even if the chameleon
circuits failed, he planned to be far enough away to dodge Dagger's fire, and
the camouflage hadn't helped so far, so why keep a torn suit? He unzipped and
shimmied between the two, shoulders stiff and keeping low. A considerable
amount of sand came with him, but that was inevitable. Five kilos lighter, he
considered what else could go.
Socks. He didn't really need socks, even though humans issued them, and he
wouldn't be changing again soon. Keep one pair to swap off and dump the rest.
He thought of using them for extra padding on the straps, but that was a field
expedient and he'd be losing mass, so why bother?
Ammo. He had an energy pack in the punch gun that was good for eighty more
full-power shots. That should be enough. He'd take one spare to be sure. That
left four of them he could dump. He'd better keep his camera and recorder. It
didn't mass much and contained information that was important.
That was about ten kilos removed. It would help considerably, and with the
device strapped inside his pack it was far less bulky.
Why was he doing that, though? There was no question left in Tirdal's mind but
that the sniper had a tracer somewhere, and the box was the logical place. He
sat with it in his lap, turning the box over and over until he found it. It
was an almost undetectable spot, which could have been a bit of dirt except
that it didn't come off. And it wouldn't come off, either. The tracers
required a special solvent to remove. He tried digging at it with his
monomolecular blade but only just scratched the cover of the device.
So. He was being traced, not only tracked. Tracking he could have dealt with,
eventually Dagger would come in close and he would have a reasonable chance.
He should have pushed things at the camp, kept them almost in contact. But
between the damage from the hornet round and the ultimate prohibition against
killing a sentient he'd chosen the other path. He should have pushed the issue
further when Ferret started shooting. He hadn't been able to see Dagger at
that point, but a few cover shots wouldn't have hurt the situation. It would
have been a morale issue at least, helping Ferret and disturbing Dagger. The
truth was that his Darhel mind needed a very conscious decision to shoot and
he hadn't made it. Now it was going to cost him.
He knew he was being traced. But did Dagger know that he knew? That was the
question. Since the meadow the sniper had been less responsive, but Tirdal
could feel his anger out there, somewhere. Not close, but definitely still on
the track. If he didn't realize Tirdal had left the device somewhere . . .
Yes, that was an idea.
Things were quiet now, too. Quiet to his Sense in this fading light. Had
Dagger decided to rest? If so, Tirdal could approach and kill him.
The problem with that was that he'd have to not use his Sense to do so, lest
the reaction from battle throw him over the edge into lintatai. And without
Page 127
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
using his Sense, he was vulnerable to a shot from
Dagger.
No, Dagger had to get close enough to him, but not be allowed take a shot. A
resting Dagger was a bad
Dagger, in that regard. Tirdal needed him off balance. He could wake the man,
but that would give away what he planned. Dagger would fatigue further, but
he'd know Tirdal couldn't approach him. That was an advantage he needed to
keep.
He thought about retreating to the south, back to the site of the murders.
That's where the gear was. But there was nothing there he needed that
justified the hike, and it would put Dagger between him and the second
extraction point, thus reducing his options. It would be nice to have some of
the gear, but it wasn't a fair tradeoff. Ferret's lifesigns tracker might be
useful, and he likely had ammunition and water.
But he wasn't skilled in the tracker's use, and he'd expose himself
considerably trying to get it. Not worth it.
So, rest for now, move as soon as Dagger stirred. Tirdal stretched out his
Sense for weather, animals, and one specific animal, then leaned back with his
ruck as a chair back to rest. His overmind could relax and recover while his
submind stayed alert. It wasn't as good as real sleep, but a solid meditation
would help.
Chapter 17
Dagger twitched and said, "Unh?"
Coming awake, he realized he'd slept for some hours. It was dawn again, the
sky above him just purple.
He felt much better, too. Now to nail that damned Darhel.
He crawled cautiously out of his ersatz shelter, and opened his suit to drain
and dump. He pinched out a turd that was hard and sore, because he was
dehydrated, but it took pressure off. It was so hard he could feel his ass
slam shut as it dropped, but he hurt a hell of a lot less afterwards. That
accomplished and dust wiped off his hands and face, he chewed some more of the
moist leaves. They helped a bit, but real food was called for. Well, that
would just have to wait. He'd taken care of the rest.
"Good morning, Tirdal!" he greeted, trying to sound even more cheerful than he
was. He donned gear and brought up the sensors.
"Good morning, Dagger. Did you enjoy sleeping in?" Dammit, the Elf still
didn't sound distressed. What was he, a machine? No, not a machine. He was in
about the same area, so he'd rested, too. Just an alien prick. Don't credit
him with any more than that.
"Very much, Tirdal," he replied. It wouldn't do to act bothered. "I thought
the extra time would let you consider your position. Alone. Down there.
Burdened with the box and a short-range weapon. Running out of time. Might be
a good idea to negotiate a surrender, hmm?"
"You make good points, Dagger," was the reply. "But I'm not sure we can trust
each other at this juncture."
"Sure we can, Tirdal," he said. He'd thought this through. "You can tell when
I've dropped my rifle . . . hell, I'll even throw it down. You drop the punch
gun as I come in range and you can tell I'm not armed. Then we both unload our
pistols and hold them up to prove it. Then we can talk about the box."
While I stick a knife in your throat, asshole.
"That's a good idea, Dagger," Tirdal said, and Dagger smirked until he added,
"but we should have done that three days ago. Your position has become clear
and your 'soul' as you call it, is slimy and grotesque.
Frankly, I'd rather attempt to negotiate with one of the predators. At least
they are logical and have a defined goal I can understand."
Forcing calm upon himself, Dagger replied, "That is unfortunate, Tirdal. In
that case, I'll have to kill you."
And you're in a prime place for a shot.
Page 128
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"We knew that, Dagger, didn't we?" Tirdal replied. He was still calm, damn
him! "And I just might kill you first." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
snugged the hip belt and used the head band, too, he could distribute the mass
well. However, he'd be less flexible thus constrained.
Likely he'd just have to take the mass on his shoulders and deal with it.
To that end, he should remove excess mass. There were things in there he was
not, frankly, going to need for this. He reached in and started sorting.
He was going to change suits, he decided. The damaged one could be left
behind. He pondered for a moment, but yes, it could. Even if the chameleon
circuits failed, he planned to be far enough away to dodge Dagger's fire, and
the camouflage hadn't helped so far, so why keep a torn suit? He unzipped and
shimmied between the two, shoulders stiff and keeping low. A considerable
amount of sand came with him, but that was inevitable. Five kilos lighter, he
considered what else could go.
Socks. He didn't really need socks, even though humans issued them, and he
wouldn't be changing again soon. Keep one pair to swap off and dump the rest.
He thought of using them for extra padding on the straps, but that was a field
expedient and he'd be losing mass, so why bother?
Ammo. He had an energy pack in the punch gun that was good for eighty more
full-power shots. That should be enough. He'd take one spare to be sure. That
left four of them he could dump. He'd better keep his camera and recorder. It
didn't mass much and contained information that was important.
That was about ten kilos removed. It would help considerably, and with the
device strapped inside his pack it was far less bulky.
Why was he doing that, though? There was no question left in Tirdal's mind but
that the sniper had a tracer somewhere, and the box was the logical place. He
sat with it in his lap, turning the box over and over until he found it. It
was an almost undetectable spot, which could have been a bit of dirt except
that it didn't come off. And it wouldn't come off, either. The tracers
required a special solvent to remove. He tried digging at it with his
monomolecular blade but only just scratched the cover of the device.
So. He was being traced, not only tracked. Tracking he could have dealt with,
eventually Dagger would come in close and he would have a reasonable chance.
He should have pushed things at the camp, kept them almost in contact. But
between the damage from the hornet round and the ultimate prohibition against
killing a sentient he'd chosen the other path. He should have pushed the issue
further when Ferret started shooting. He hadn't been able to see Dagger at
that point, but a few cover shots wouldn't have hurt the situation. It would
have been a morale issue at least, helping Ferret and disturbing Dagger. The
truth was that his Darhel mind needed a very conscious decision to shoot and
he hadn't made it. Now it was going to cost him.
He knew he was being traced. But did Dagger know that he knew? That was the
question. Since the meadow the sniper had been less responsive, but Tirdal
could feel his anger out there, somewhere. Not close, but definitely still on
the track. If he didn't realize Tirdal had left the device somewhere . . .
Yes, that was an idea.
Things were quiet now, too. Quiet to his Sense in this fading light. Had
Dagger decided to rest? If so, Tirdal could approach and kill him.
The problem with that was that he'd have to not use his Sense to do so, lest
the reaction from battle throw him over the edge into lintatai. And without
Page 127
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
using his Sense, he was vulnerable to a shot from
Dagger.
No, Dagger had to get close enough to him, but not be allowed take a shot. A
resting Dagger was a bad
Dagger, in that regard. Tirdal needed him off balance. He could wake the man,
but that would give away what he planned. Dagger would fatigue further, but
he'd know Tirdal couldn't approach him. That was an advantage he needed to
keep.
He thought about retreating to the south, back to the site of the murders.
That's where the gear was. But there was nothing there he needed that
justified the hike, and it would put Dagger between him and the second
extraction point, thus reducing his options. It would be nice to have some of
the gear, but it wasn't a fair tradeoff. Ferret's lifesigns tracker might be
useful, and he likely had ammunition and water.
But he wasn't skilled in the tracker's use, and he'd expose himself
considerably trying to get it. Not worth it.
So, rest for now, move as soon as Dagger stirred. Tirdal stretched out his
Sense for weather, animals, and one specific animal, then leaned back with his
ruck as a chair back to rest. His overmind could relax and recover while his
submind stayed alert. It wasn't as good as real sleep, but a solid meditation
would help.
Chapter 17
Dagger twitched and said, "Unh?"
Coming awake, he realized he'd slept for some hours. It was dawn again, the
sky above him just purple.
He felt much better, too. Now to nail that damned Darhel.
He crawled cautiously out of his ersatz shelter, and opened his suit to drain
and dump. He pinched out a turd that was hard and sore, because he was
dehydrated, but it took pressure off. It was so hard he could feel his ass
slam shut as it dropped, but he hurt a hell of a lot less afterwards. That
accomplished and dust wiped off his hands and face, he chewed some more of the
moist leaves. They helped a bit, but real food was called for. Well, that
would just have to wait. He'd taken care of the rest.
"Good morning, Tirdal!" he greeted, trying to sound even more cheerful than he
was. He donned gear and brought up the sensors.
"Good morning, Dagger. Did you enjoy sleeping in?" Dammit, the Elf still
didn't sound distressed. What was he, a machine? No, not a machine. He was in
about the same area, so he'd rested, too. Just an alien prick. Don't credit
him with any more than that.
"Very much, Tirdal," he replied. It wouldn't do to act bothered. "I thought
the extra time would let you consider your position. Alone. Down there.
Burdened with the box and a short-range weapon. Running out of time. Might be
a good idea to negotiate a surrender, hmm?"
"You make good points, Dagger," was the reply. "But I'm not sure we can trust
each other at this juncture."
"Sure we can, Tirdal," he said. He'd thought this through. "You can tell when
I've dropped my rifle . . . hell, I'll even throw it down. You drop the punch
gun as I come in range and you can tell I'm not armed. Then we both unload our
pistols and hold them up to prove it. Then we can talk about the box."
While I stick a knife in your throat, asshole.
"That's a good idea, Dagger," Tirdal said, and Dagger smirked until he added,
"but we should have done that three days ago. Your position has become clear
and your 'soul' as you call it, is slimy and grotesque.
Frankly, I'd rather attempt to negotiate with one of the predators. At least
they are logical and have a defined goal I can understand."
Forcing calm upon himself, Dagger replied, "That is unfortunate, Tirdal. In
that case, I'll have to kill you."
And you're in a prime place for a shot.
Page 128
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"We knew that, Dagger, didn't we?" Tirdal replied. He was still calm, damn
him! "And I just might kill you first." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]