The Icarus Hunt

"At least, not on purpose. You ever hear of a three-pop?"

There was a slight but noticeable rustling among the gargoyles. "I don't thinkso," the Patth said, adding a bit more amusement into the smarmy part of hisvocal mix. "But I'm sure you're dying to tell me."

"An appropriate choice of words," I said approvingly. "A three-pop is ahigh-power capacitor wired internally into a plasmic's fire circuit, keptcharged by the main power pack but otherwise independent of it. It holdsenoughjuice for two to four shots." I squinted consideringly. "That means you and upto three of your toadies will die if any of you comes any closer. If you'dlike to point out your least favorites among them, I'll see what I can do to obligeyou."

The four front Iykams had stopped looking like friendly little gargoyles. Allfour corona guns were up and aimed, held in taut-looking grips at the fullextension of taut-looking arms. But for once I had the advantage, and they allknew it. Lying there four meters away from them, I was right on the edge oftheir kill zones, while they were well inside mine. Add to that the point thatthey couldn't afford to kill me—and the equally important point that none ofthem was especially eager to get killed, either—and we had the makings here ofa good old-fashioned standoff.

And for a minute it looked as if I might actually get away with it. Very little of the Patth's face was visible in the shadow of that hood, but what I could see seemed to be in the throes of serious indecision as he weighed the merits ofrisking his personal skin against the reality that the Icarus still had a longway to go before we were home free. This was no professional bounty hunter, oreven a standard flunky used to obeying orders without the luxury of being ableto factor personal preference into the equation. Odds were this was areasonablysenior Patth citizen, pressed by necessity and desperation into this hunt forus.

But even as he hesitated a new voice from the outer room joined thediscussion.

Another Patth voice, just as smarmy as the first, but carrying with it theunmistakable weight of authority. "Nonsense," he said. "He's bluffing. Enig, tell your fools to go get the weapon. We don't have time for this."

The Patth in the doorway grunted something and two of the Iykams steppedreluctantly forward, their corona guns rigidly pointed at me. I let them getwithin two steps, just in case someone decided to have second thoughts, thenlet my plasmic settle harmlessly to the floor. "You're right," I acknowledged.

"I'm bluffing."

"Bring him in here," the second voice ordered. There was no gloating in thetone that I could detect, nor any relief either. He'd made a decision, had issuedan order and had it obeyed, and was not surprised by either the obedience or thefact that his decision had turned out to be right. Clearly, we had suddenlyjumped a whole bunch of rungs upward on the Patth social ladder.

The Iykams hauled me to my feet and half pulled, half dragged me into theother room. This one was much nicer, nearly three times the size of my original celland furnished better, with a couple of chairs and lamps scattered around. Nearthe wall to my left was a desk with a handful of monitors arranged along itsfront edge, and the other Patth seated behind it. The room was also swarmingwith Iykams, but you couldn't have everything.

"Not bad," I said, looking around as they led me to another plain woodenarmchair that had been placed in front of the desk. Again, there seemed to beonly one door leading out of the place, directly across the room from the doorto my cell. Framed in the ceiling overhead was what at first glance lookedlike a skylight, but which on second glance proved to be only a standard lightfixture designed to look that way. There were a couple of ventilation vents atceiling and floor level, with decorative crosshatched gratings that lookedflimsy enough to tear right off the wall. But through the holes in those samegratings I could see that the ductwork beyond was far too narrow for evensomeone as thin as Chort to fit through. A quick count of the Iykams came upwith a total of eight. "Not bad at all," I added as my guards unfastened myhandcuffs from the broken chair, shoved me down into the new one, and secured mywrists to the arms again. This time, I took particular note of which of thempocketed the keys. "If you kept your prisoners in a place like this instead ofthat converted stockroom back there you'd probably get better cooperation."

There was no comment from the other side of the desk. I finished my survey ofthe room in a leisurely fashion, then finally turned my full attention to theother Patth.

If anything, my earlier hunch about his status had fallen short of the mark.

Instead of the usual unadorned gray worn in public by most Patth, his robe wasinstead gray with dark burnt-orange slash marks set into the sleeves and edgeof the hood. This was one of the Patth elite diplomatic corps, possibly even thePalmary ambassador himself. "I'm impressed," I said. "May I ask whom I havethe honor of addressing?"

He regarded me another moment before answering. "You may call me Nask, Mr.

McKell. You have been a most troubling person, indeed."

"Thank you," I said, inclining my head slightly, ignoring the fresh swell ofpain the motion induced. "You seem to think the game is over."

"What makes you say that?" he asked calmly. "It is, of course, but what makesyou phrase it that way?"

"Your so-called name," I said. " 'Nask' is one of the Patth words for'victor'."

"Interesting," he said. "We were right about you. You're not just a simplemerchant pilot."

"That's right, I'm not," I told him. "I'm an employee of a very powerful anddangerous man. A figure who, I dare say, could cause immense trouble for eventhe Patth economic empire."

"Let us guess whom you refer to," the other Patth, Enig, put in. He had movedthrough the circle of glowering Iykams to a spot behind Nask, where he nowstood at respectful attention. He didn't sound particularly smarmy at the moment, probably rather miffed that my bluff with the plasmic had made him look sillyin front of his superior.

And now, in the better light in here, I could also see the telltale glitter ofstarship-pilot implants around his eyes. His deference was more proof, if I'dneeded it, that Nask was a very high-ranking Patth indeed. "Would thispowerfuland dangerous man by any chance be Johnston Scotto Ryland?" Enig went on.

"You are well informed," I said, trying to hide the sudden sinking sensationin my stomach. If they knew about my co

"We do," Nask said. "But you're sadly mistaken if you think there is anycrossing involved. Once your co

The sinking sensation sank a little deeper. "Sure, go ahead."

Nask reached forward and keyed one of the displays. "Quote: 'Jordan McKell notknown to this organization.' Unquote. Succinctly put, wouldn't you say?"

"Very," I agreed with a sigh. The heat had been turned up, and Brother Johnhad responded by throwing me to the wolves. Typical. "So where does that leaveus?"

"It leaves us in position to bargain," Nask said. "And without any externalentanglements."

I frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me correctly," he assured me. "You have the Icarus. I want it. It'sthat simple."

"Really," I said, trying in vain to read that half-shadowed face. Coming froma human, such an implied offer would carry the strong implication that the bargainer was offering to cut his superior completely out of the picture. ButNask was a Patth. Surely that couldn't be what he meant. Could it? "Would youcare to elaborate as to what specific entanglements you hope to avoid?"