The Omega Cage Page 14

  "Report," Stark said. He leaned forward in his chair.

  The voice from the holoproj image sounded hot and tired. "Nothing, Warden," the leader of the search said. "We've spread-and-pinched for a hundred klicks from the flitter. No sign of 'em."

  Stark stared at the man's image, thinking quickly. "Could they have gotten some other form of transport onto the flitter with them? A cycle, or maybe another one of those jury-rigged repellor plates?"

  "None of the cycles are missing, sir. It's possible they might have been able to stack a plate, but I don't think so. They couldn't have known they'd have mechanical failure."

  He was right, Stark knew. "All right, then you've missed them. They didn't take a direct path to the port. Maybe they didn't know the right way to go."

  "The flitter's laser-compass was missing—"

  "Or maybe they went in another direction to throw us off. Sweep the main track again, then fan out from the flitter. Maybe they planned to move at angles before cutting back."

  "Yessir. Discom."

  Stark felt a flutter in his belly, a roiling like some small creature having a nightmare. It had been almost two full days since the escape, and his men should have found them by now. So far, he'd managed to keep the break confined to his own people, but within a few days Karnaaj was going to come storming in here, regulations or not, and then there would be the devil to pay. What could he do? They hadn't found any bodies, and Stark was certain that the escapees were still alive.

  He would find them. He had to find them.

  In the late afternoon they came to the end of the swamp. The mire didn't thin out—it simply stopped. They could see the edge of it a few hundred meters ahead, almost knife-sharp. Dead trees stuck up through sand drifts, some of which were twenty meters high. The swamp had swallowed what it could of the desert, but in the end, Juete thought, it had choked.

  "Let's rest here for a while," Dain said. "Sleep if we can. It makes a lot more sense to try the desert at night."

  Juete collapsed gratefully, leaning back against the rough bark of a tree. Sleep? She could sleep for a week!

  "A night crossing might not be a good idea," Sandoz said. "The sand will cool, and we'll stand out like bugs under a scope if they come looking for us."

  Scanner shook his head. "There are hot spots; rocks buried under the sand, and like that. They'll have to check them all if they bother looking in this direction. During the day they can see us, but at night all they'll have are doppler and heatscopes. Better odds."

  Dain said, "Besides, we only have three bottles of water. With the sun baking us, we won't be able to make forty klicks. If we push, we can cover twenty-five or thirty tonight, maybe more. Come morning, we can do the rest of it before it gets too hot."

  Chameleon asked, "You really think we can walk that fast in sand?"

  Dain looked at the metamorph. "We can try."

  "What about animals?" That from Raze, who was brushing scum back from a small pond; after a moment, she began to dip and fill the water bottles. The bottles gurgled and bubbled in the green pool.

  "No way to tell," Dain said.

  "At least we can see them coming," Sandoz added.

  "That won't do us much good if what's coming is a dragonbat."

  Juete shifted against the tree, looking for a softer spot. There wasn't one. She felt her nerves begin to unknot ever so slightly. Two hours ago, something large had rattled the bushes not five meters away from them. Sandoz had snapped that flare pistol out so fast she wasn't sure she'd seen him move, and fired two shots. Whatever it was didn't like that much, for it crashed away from them, making a lot of noise in the process. It hadn't come back.

  Raze dropped several of the water purification fizzies into the now-filled bottles. The liquid hissed. Juete did not care for the sterilized water—it had a strong chemical odor and tasted like chlorine—but it was better than risking whatever microscopic denizens normally inhabited it.

  Dain turned away to look at the distant walls of sand. When he did, Juete felt Sandoz shift toward her. He dropped one hand and gently dragged his fingers along the side of her neck. Juete looked up, and Sandoz smiled at her. She dropped her gaze and saw that the front of his coverall bulged slightly at the crotch.

  Trouble brewing.

  He moved his hand away, deliberately but not hurriedly, as Dain turned back to face the others. There was no way that Dain could have missed Sandoz's touching her. He didn't say anything about it, though. Instead, he said, "We've got a few hours before it gets dark. We should take turns on watch while everybody else sleeps."

  "Sounds good," Sandoz said. His voice had a sexual edge to it, something Juete recognized from long experience. "I'll take the first watch."

  "Fine. Half an hour, then wake Chameleon. Give him the flare gun."

  Sandoz's grin was lazy. "Sure."

  To Chameleon, Dain said, "You wake Raze; Juete spells her, and I'll take the last one, if that's okay."

  Nobody seemed to care. They spread the blankets out and everybody but Sandoz found a place. Juete curled up between Raze and Dain, and in a few minutes, despite this new situation to worry about, was asleep.

  She had a dream. In it, she lay naked under Sandoz. Behind him Dain stood, fists clenched, but unable to move—his feet were covered with squirming vines that reached halfway up to his knees—as Sandoz pumped away in violent, driving strokes. She couldn't move either. Sandoz's pelvis pinned her hips, and Stark held one of her hands pressed to the swampy ground, while Berque held the other one. In the background, she heard the squealing of the myriad killer denizens of Omega, and the flutter of a million wings.

  The horror of it was not what they were doing.

  The horror of it was that she enjoyed it.

  Maro watched through slitted lids the transfer of the flare gun from Sandoz to Chameleon. Sandoz knew what Maro was up to, that was all to obvious from the grin he had flashed earlier. Why did I offer to take the last watch? Why, so I would wind up with the flare pistol when we started moving again. Not that it mattered all that much; Sandoz was a lot deadlier without the weapon than Maro was with it. Still, there was no point in shading the odds in Sandoz's favor. A 12mm actinic-thermal flare in the eyes might swing things his way, if it came to that. And it might, it just might. Sandoz was used to being in control, inside the Cage and out. Juete was a spur, but not the only thing driving the assassin. Sooner or later he would feel compelled to take over. It was Maro's hope that it wouldn't happen until they reached the port, but that might be too much to wish for.

  He finally dozed, but the sleep was not deep enough for dreams or real rest. It was bad enough that they had the warden and his guards and a killer planet to contend with; now, they had to worry about each other as well.

  So much for honor among thieves.

  Stark stood on the wall next to the south tower and the main gate. The sun was going down behind the opposite wall of the prison, giving view to another of the bright evening skies that on a civilized world would have been called beautiful. The rain had stopped, and it had come late enough to cool the air without turning to heavy vapor.

  He looked to the south, past the M&T compound from which the prisoners had stolen the flitter. They were all going to die for this, he told himself. Except Juete. And she would pay dearly. Before he was done, she would kiss the ground he walked upon, and be happy for the privilege.

  The intercom bell chimed softly from the tower. Stark did not turn. After a moment, the tower guard coughed behind him.

  "Yes?"

  "That was Reader in Communications, Warden. They've got the main transceiver repaired."

  "Tell him to continue com silence."

  "… Yessir."

  Stark turned back to stare over the Zonn construct into the jungle. He hated this world, he hated this goddamned job, and he hated Karnaaj. But more than all of it, he hated the prisoners who had escaped. He could cover it, if he caught them. No, not "if." When he caught them. But that nagging voice
in his head kept asking the question he did not want to hear: What if you don't catch them? What will the Confed do to the man who let somebody escape from the Cage? Even if they die out there, unless you can prove it, you are as doomed as they are. What then, Officer Commander Warden? What then?

  "Dain?"

  Maro sat up suddenly, disoriented. Juete kneeled nearby, one hand extended to touch him on the shoulder. He looked around. Dusk was fading into night, though it was still light enough to see clearly. The stink of decay seemed less; maybe it was the presence of all that clean, hot sand so close by. Scanner, Chameleon, Raze and Sandoz all appeared to be sleeping.

  Maro moved carefully to avoid waking the others. He and Juete walked ten meters away, at which point she handed him the flare pistol.

  "Are we going soon?" she asked.

  "Another hour or so."

  She glanced at the others, then back at Maro. "I don't think I can get back to sleep. Can I stay here with you?"

  "Sure."

  He was very aware of her sitting next to him, felt her call to him on a basic, primal level. Chemical, he knew, but also something more. He put one arm around her shoulders, and she pressed against him as though she had been doing it all her life. The contact felt comfortable, and more relaxed in that moment than it had with any woman he'd ever before been with.

  "Dain?"

  "Hmm?"

  "There's a clear spot over there, behind those bushes."

  He felt the heat rising from within, hotter than the damp air around them. "Yes."

  They stood and moved out of sight of the others.

  She kissed him, and Maro knew then that he had never felt this kind of power with any other lover. Her mouth was like fire on his, her tongue changing from soft to hard and back as she clutched at his back. He opened her coverall, bent and kissed her bright pink nipple. It hardened under his tongue. She moaned softly.

  Lying on their clothes, sticky with humidity and sweat, they made love, touching, stroking, kissing, kneading each other's bodies. She was beautiful, as he had known she would be. Her pubic hair was snowy and soft, and when he kissed her mons, she tasted like salty honey. She came twice in that many minutes as he sucked and nibbled on her.

  He managed to last all of three strokes the first time. He entered her, felt that incredible heat and tightness around him, and could not hold back.

  The second time for him took longer and was even more intense. When he climaxed, he heard her whisper, "I love you!" and he could only nod, not trusting his voice.

  Later, they sat up, slapping at the insects that had found bare patches in the repellent. They laughed softly together, smiling as they looked at each other.

  "We'd better get dressed and wake them up," he finally said.

  "I know. I love you. Thank you."

  He laughed quietly. "Thank me? You got it wrong, lady. I'm the one who's grateful."

  "Even trade, then?"

  "No way. I got the best of the deal. Come on."

  They stood and dressed, and went back to where the others slept. The night had claimed the tropics, and the stars and two of the three moons were peering out, casting their cold light into the darkness. Despite everything, despite all the danger and risk and exhaustion, Maro had never felt better in his life. Somehow, they might just make it. And if not, at least he had made a connection unlike any he had ever made before. That was worth the trip in itself.

  Chapter Twenty

  Compared to slogging through the swamp, the sand wasn't so bad. It was so different as to be almost pleasurable initially, walking and sinking in dryness. The sand got drier the further they got from the swamp, and for a while Juete liked the sound their feet made, almost a musical noise as the billions of tiny sand fragments rubbed against each other and the feet of the walkers.

  It tired a whole new set of muscles, though. After an hour or so, her calves were cramping. Scanner took sightings with the laser-compass every few minutes, because they were walking around the tallest dunes and getting off their course. The last of the three moons was up, and it was easy enough to see in the washed out light.

  It was an eerie trek. There was a little wind, making the air almost chilly. Aside from the occasional wraithlike plumes of sand that the breeze stirred, nothing moved on the desert except the six of them. There were short, clumpy plants now and then, fleshy-looking things about the size of a dinner plate that looked something like starfish. Then, two hours after they'd started, Sandoz, in the lead, suddenly said "Everybody down!"

  They were just cresting a short rise. Juete dropped, as did the others. Dain slithered up to where Sandoz lay. The others, including Juete, also centimetered their way toward the top of the dune.

  Once there, she saw what Sandoz had spotted. A few dozen meters away was a beast. It looked vaguely like holos she had once seen of a horse, but it was stumpier, with thicker legs and a fat, smooth, black body. The ears were large, almost leaf-shaped, and its tail was a hairless cord that nearly touched the ground. The thing appeared to be eating something on the sand.

  Sandoz whispered, "Scanner, you know what it is?"

  "Never saw anything like it," Scanner replied.

  "Dangerous, do you think?" Chameleon said.

  Dain said, "Probably not. It looks like a herbivore. It's nibbling one of those succulent plants, see?"

  Dain pointed at the ground, and Juete could see that what he said was true. Then, though no one had moved, something must have startled the creature, for it suddenly whipped its head up and stared directly at them. It didn't seem to see them, but the animal snorted as if testing the air for scents. Then, abruptly, it turned and trotted off. Juete saw that the animal's feet were very broad and flat, almost semicircular. They kept it from sinking into the sand very far, despite its bulk.

  "I wonder if they're good to eat," Raze said. "Those rations we have don't stick too well. And they won't last past tomorrow, no matter how we slice 'em."

  "How're you planning to nail it, Raze? Scare it to death?"

  Raze grinned at Chameleon. "You're the one whose got a face that would fry a security circuit. Maybe that's not a bad idea."

  "Come on," Dain said. "Best we get moving again."

  Juete stood and shook the sand out of her coverall. She was abruptly aware of Sandoz watching her movements, and she stopped. Better to be a little sandy than to give him any reason to heat up.

  After another hour, it became apparent that they weren't going to make as much speed as Dain had hoped they would. It was fine on the flat stretches, where the sand was packed fairly tight, but on the slopes of the dunes it was two steps up and one step back. They sank to their knees, and Juete's lower legs were scraped and raw before they had walked ten kilometers. On the downside of the dunes, they could let gravity do a lot of the work, but they often fell, and rolling in sand was not enjoyable after walking in it for several hours.

  They came to a sort of pass that meandered through several large dunes. The footing seemed almost solid, and Juete was grateful for small favors as she trudged along with the others. Scanner had taken the lead, followed by Raze and Dain, with Chameleon and Sandoz bringing up the rear behind Juete. It was by far the easiest walking they had done. If it stayed this way for a few more kilometers, they would be across the desert in another couple of hours…

  Then, under the moonlight, Scanner yelled suddenly. Juete was looking right at him when he sank, disappearing into the sand like a man stepping onto the surface of a lake. Only one arm and hand remained in sight, and that was sinking rapidly.

  As she watched, immobilized by shock and surprise. Scanner's hand vanished beneath the sand.

  Stark stood under the lights outside of his personal storage shed, a prefab stress plastic block nestled behind the fence in the northeast corner of the Stores yard. Thousands of insects buzzed the lights above. Weird shadows danced over him as the insects fitfully bounced against the glass of the HT lamps. The shed was locked, and would open only to the palm signature o
f his right hand. The warden stared at the translucent green building as if he could see through it to what was inside.

  Don't panic, he told himself. It's not time yet.

  "Warden Stark?" came the voice from his com.

  "Yes?"

  "The search team leader is reporting in."

  "Put it through."

  "Copy. Stand by."

  The team leader came on. "We've lasered half a dozen big animals in the swamp, but there's no sign of the prisoners, either visual or on sensors."

  "What about the back trails? Any signs?"

  "Ah, that's negative. Simmons says he's seen sand deer and a lot of dry ground, but no tracks. He's gotten some subsurface readings, but they've all turned out to be rocks or outcrops."

  "Keep looking. They're out there."

  "Unless they sank in the swamp or something ate them."

  "Say again, search leader." His voice was cold and even.

  He heard the man swallow. "Sorry, Warden. Search pattern continuing."

  "Copy. Discom."

  He walked to the stress plastic building and put one hand onto the surface. Warm, even this late at night. He turned away. He was tired. He needed to rest. The bastards were making him react, he was not in control, and he did not like it.

  There was really no reason to worry. After all, he had the information from Maro, via Berque, to fall back upon.

  Oh? said the malevolent little voice inside his head. Really? As slick as the escape went, and Berque going with them; do you really think what Berque told you is true? You know Maro was behind this escape, don't you? Remember how he withstood the Zonn Chamber? You don't have anything for back-up here, Stark old buddy, not a goddamn thing, so let's not fool ourselves, hey? Go and take a nap, but don't stop worrying, because you've got plenty to worry about.

  Stark moved away from the small building toward the gate in the fence around Stores. Sleep, if he could manage it, that would help. He'd be better after a few hours of sleep.

  He hoped…

  Raze yelled "Chain up! Grab my arm!" at Maro. He reached out and caught her wrist, feeling her lock onto his at the same moment with powerful fingers. He extended his other arm, and Juete grabbed it with both hands. He spared her a glance in time to see Chameleon clutch Juete around the waist in a tight hug. Sandoz was moving toward Chameleon, and Maro turned back toward Raze, who dropped to her knees, pulling Maro with her. The others went down, dominolike, as Raze jammed her free hand down into the sand, stirring the powdery substance as she groped for Scanner.