The Icarus Hunt

But that killing shot didn't come; and then he was there, ducking down andusingthe tables for maximum cover as he headed in. Abruptly he stopped. I held mybreath again—"Come on," he called, waving toward us as he holstered hisplasmic.

"It's Everett. He's hurt."

I felt like saying who isn't, but with an effort I managed to restrain myself.

Helping each other, with the added incentive of not knowing whether anotherattacker might be lurking in the shadows somewhere, Nicabar and I made itacross the wiggle floor in record time.

It was indeed Everett, lying beside a tangle of chair legs, and he was indeedhurt. A single plasmic burn, a pretty severe one, in his left thigh just abovethe knee. "I must have been looking the wrong way at the wrong time," heexplained, managing a wan smile as Ixil carefully tore the charred pant legawayfrom the wound. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I said, taking his plasmic from him and making a quickbut careful survey of the area. If there were more attackers lying in wait, theywere being awfully quiet about it. "None of the rest of us are exactly in mintcondition at the moment, either. Where's the chap who was shooting at us?"

"He's over there somewhere," he said, nodding to the side.

"I see him," I said, stepping over to a misshapen bundle on one of the chairsa couple of tables away from Everett's position. The bundle turned out to beanother of the ubiquitous Iykams, this one lying draped across the seat with aplasmic still hanging loosely from his hand. Cause of death was obvious: aclose-range plasmic burn in his back. "Nice shooting."

"Thanks," Everett said, the word cut off by a hissing intake of breath as Ixilfinished with the charred cloth. "I'm sorry I didn't get him sooner—I've beendrifting in and out of consciousness. I didn't even know he was there until hetook that shot at you. How bad is that burn, Revs?"

"Hurts like hell, but I don't think there's any serious damage," Nicabar said.

He was on one knee beside Everett, rummaging around in the medical pack lyingon the floor beside him. "So how come they left you here alive after they shotyou?"

"I don't know," Everett confessed. "I'm just glad they did."

"Ditto," I said. "Can you walk?"

"Do I have a choice?" Everett countered. He dug into the med pack, pushingNicabar's hands impatiently out of the way, and came up with a couple of burnpads. "I presume you know how to apply one of these," he said to Nicabar as hehanded him one of the pads.

"I've had more practice than I care to remember," Nicabar grunted, pulling thecharred shirt material away from his shoulder with stoic disregard for thepain.

"What about you, McKell?" Everett went on as he opened his own pad andarrangedit carefully over his burn. "I seem to remember you being the one we werecharging in to rescue in the first place."

"I'm all right," I assured him. "I could use a painkiller for my head, buttheyhadn't started on the really rough stuff yet. Aside from Ixil, I think I'mprobably in the best shape of all of us."

"I wouldn't tempt fate that way if I were you," Nicabar warned. "Everett?"

"I'm ready," Everett said, wincing once as he pressed the edges of the padfirmly into place against his leg. "Though I may need some help until theanesthetic takes effect."

I sighed. We were, without a doubt, just exactly the right men to bechallengingthe giant octopus of Patth economic domination. Humanity was counting on us, and humanity was in trouble. "Tell me some more good news," I said sourly.

"As a matter of fact, I can," he said, digging out a bottle of painkillers andtossing it to me. "I've found us a safe haven. A temporary one, at least."

I frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I got in touch with a friend of mine on my way over from the ship," he said, dropping his voice. "Called him on that StarrComm station by the tram lines.

He's a retired doctor, one of my instructors when I went through med training.

He's ru

Fuel supply, landing-pad repulsors, perimeter lift-assist grav beams—theworks."

"He'll be used to private yachts there," Nicabar pointed out doubtfully. "Canhe handle a ship the size of the Icarus?"

"I spelled out the dimensions and he says he can," Everett said. "And it'soff-season there right now, which means the place is deserted."

"Other towns?" Ixil asked.

"Nearest is two hundred kilometers away," Everett said. "We'll have time tofinish the camouflage work on the ship and give all these burns some healingtime." He lowered his voice still further. "We might even be able to get thestardrive working."

"Sounds too good to be true," I said. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Everett said. "He has no idea who or what we are—I told him youwere a group of investors interested in buying into resorts like his and pouringexpansion money into the more successful ones. He won't even be there—he'sheading out in two days on an equipment-buying trip. We'll have the wholeplaceto ourselves."

I looked at Ixil and lifted my eyebrows questioningly. He shrugged slightly inreply, his expression mirroring my own thoughts. Even if this turned out to bea trap, given that the Patth were already breathing down our necks we didn'thave a lot to lose. At least with a trap set the Patth and Iykams might not be soquick to flail around with blunt objects, a restraint that would not only givemy head a chance to heal but would also automatically raise our chances of slipping or fighting our way out of it. "All right," I said. "We'll try it.

Where is this place?"

Everett hesitated, glancing around the darkened room. "I don't know," he said.

"Out here in the open—you know."

"I want to know now," I told him, moving close and putting my ear to his lips.

"Just whisper it."

He sighed, his breath unpleasantly warm on my cheek. "It's on Beyscrim," he whispered. "The northwest section of the Highlandia continent."

"Got it," I said, getting a grip under his arm. He was right; even whispering it in here was risky. But I needed to know, and I needed to know before we got back to the ship. "Okay. Now we can go."

CHAPTER 21

AFTER ALL THE firepower that had been expended inside the club, I'd half expected to find a wall of local police surrounding the place as we slipped out the emergency exit and down the alley onto the crowded k'Barch streets. But to my mild surprise not a single badgeman was visible anywhere among the colorfully dressed celebrants. Either they just hadn't made it to the scene yet because of the crowds or because they were tied up with other more pressing business, or else a little good-natured gunplay wasn't remarkable enough during the Grand Feast to warrant official attention.

Especially without the club's ownership making any complaints; and it was for sure that Ambassador Nask wouldn't have risked losing Patth control of the Icarus by calling the local authorities in.

Which was just as well, considering how much trouble we had making our escape even without governmental interference. Now that it was full night, the crowds filling the streets were at least twice as dense as they'd been when I'd first arrived, and it seemed like every third step one of us managed to get jostled or bumped in a tender spot by some boisterous or flat-out drunk reveler. Even the high-quality painkillers and anesthetic pads Cameron had stocked the Icarus with could only do so much, and by the end of the second block I was about ready to haul out my plasmic and start shooting us a clear path.

Adding to the physical torture of pushing through the morass was the tension of wondering if and when the Patth would be able to regroup for another stab at us.