Maverick

“I’m not sure,” she said. “My father used to have a saying, before he went daft. He’d say, ‘The kin live for the Hunt. ’ Not for hunting; for the Hunt. He meant the old, formal word for the fighting pack. ”

WhiteTail edged back from the railing and dropped down to all fours. Cocking her head a little, she whined as if deeply disturbed. “Mavvy, everything in our lives is centered on the pack, and the pack is based on the Hunt. If we no longer need to hunt, what happens to the pack?” She turned and poked a paw at the slidewalk endlessly rolling past the edge of the platform they stood on. “How much riding on that thing will it take before we’re too soft and weak to do anything except live here?”

Maverick dropped down to all fours and joined her, but when he tried to wrap a comforting tail around her shoulders, she shrugged it off and sidled away. “Mavvy,” she said, a desperate light in her eyes, “I saw a fatyoungling this morning. Can you imagine that?” She shook her head, returned to the railing, and looked out at the city. “Surely too much Heaven is just as damning as life in Hell. ”

Maverick rejoined her at the railing. “You really should talk to your father about this,” he said softly. “You’re asking questions that are out of my depth. All I can tell you is that I believe-I’m as mystified as you are, but I believe-and that’s enough for me. ”

WhiteTail looked him straight in the eyes. “What do you believe?”

“Why, I believe that SilverSides kept her promise. I believe that this was given to us, to free us from the pain and drudgery of our old lives. We may still be a little bewildered, and maybe some of us are misusing the gift, but I believe that SilverSides will appear soon and make everything clear. ”

WhiteTail’s eyes narrowed. “But you do believe that this place was created as a reward for the faithful?” Maverick nodded. WhiteTail leapt to her hind feet and pointed at something in the street below. “Then what are they doing here?”

Maverick’s eyes followed where WhiteTail was pointing. At least thirty young males were marching four abreast down the middle of the street, ears flat, hackles raised, fangs bared in menacing snarls. A playing youngling made the mistake of darting into the street and got cuffed head-over-haunches back to the curb by one of the leaders.

“Who are they?” Maverick asked, his hackles rising.

“One Eye and his pack,” WhiteTail growled. “Very mean; we’ve been fighting border skirmishes with them for years. ”

Maverick fought his hackles down and whined nervously. “Maybe the missionaries persuaded him to-”

“What missionaries?” WhiteTail snapped. “My father spent three days talking about sending missionaries to the other packs, but by the time he was done talking, everyone was too well fed and comfortable to go!”

Maverick could only whimper anxiously.

WhiteTail pointed into the street again. “Look, there’s going to be a fight!” A ragged mob of converts was collecting in front of the automat, and someone from LifeCrier’s i

With a completely different howl, he dug in his claws and skidded to a stop, just inches short of the legs of the enormous black WalkingStone that had stepped out of the shadows and into his path.

“You shall not fight in this city!” The WalkingStone’s voice was like thunder. One Eye scuttled back a few trots and seemed to gather courage once he was back with his pack. He issued orders to his lieutenants with a snarling voice and sharp, chopping gestures; several of the larger males slipped out of the pack and began sidling indirectly toward the WalkingStone, as if to flank it.

“You are welcome to live in the place that has been prepared for you,” the WalkingStone said, “but you shall not fight in this city!” On cue, eight more WalkingStones stepped out of the shadows, surrounding One Eye.

The pack broke and ran.

“Well,” Maverick said with a smug smile, “do you still doubt that SilverSides watches over us?”

“SilverSides schmilversides,” WhiteTail snarled. “So far all I’ve seen is WalkingStones behaving the way WalkingStones have always behaved. I’ll believe in SilverSides when I smell her fur. ” She was still glaring at Maverick when a rumble of thunder rolled out of the clear blue sky and echoed down the empty streets. Startled, both Maverick and WhiteTail jerked their heads up to see the strange, winged shape descending on a tail of flame.

“WhiteTail?” Maverick asked, his voice squeaking like a trapped grasshider. “It looks like you’re about to get your chance. ”

Chapter 20. Landfall

Fat gray fingers skittered across the control panel and came to rest on the vernier controls. A long black claw ticked nervously on a chrome button.

“Altitude five hundred meters,” the ship said pleasantly. “Descent rate two meters per second. ”

“Ventr’l thrust’rs up point two,” Wolruf whispered into the command pickup.

“Are you sure that’s all right with Master Derec?”

Wolruf snapped her head around to glare at Derec, who was studying a secondary viewscreen. Derec, aware of a sudden burning sensation in his ears, looked up and registered the question. “Uh, yes, ship, that’s fine. ”

“Complying. Altitude four hundred and fifty meters. Descent rate one meter per second. ”

Derec realized that Wolruf was still glaring at him and spoke up again. “Ship? Stop questioning Wolruf’s orders. ”

“But, Master Derec,” the ship objected politely, “Wolruf is not human and therefore has no Second Law authority. ”

Avery nudged Derec with his elbow and tried to draw his attention back to the viewscreen. Derec stole a glance at the screen and then looked up again. “Ship, I don’t have time to argue about this now. You are to consider Wolruf as human. ”

“Very well,” the ship answered, with just the slightest hint of petulance. “I will accept Wolruf’s commands for the time being. However, I would appreciate being given the opportunity to discuss this at length after we land. ”

Derec noticed that Wolruf was still glaring at him. He gave her a sheepish smile and shrugged. “Sorry. It’s the best I can do for now. ” Wolruf snarled something untranslatable in her native language and turned back to the control panel

“Altitude four hundred meters. Descent rate-”

“Shut up,” Wolruf growled. The ship shut up.

Avery tugged on Derec’s elbow and tried to draw his attention to the secondary view screen again. “Look. There’s more arriving. ”

Derec turned and looked at the screen. “More? But where are they coming from?”

Avery leaned in close and studied the image. “There. ” He slapped a finger on the screen. “The tu

Derec leaned back and scratched his chin. “How could they survive in there? The transit platforms hit speeds of a hundred kilometers per hour. If the natives are ru

Avery looked at Derec, one eyebrow arched. “Or else the natives have learned to ride the platforms. ”

“Don’t be ridiculous. For one thing, the natives are pretechnological. For another, the platforms are designed for bipeds, and besides, they’re robotic. They wouldn’t obey orders from-” Derec froze as he felt Wolruf’s glare on the back of his neck.

“Look there. ” Avery darted a hand out and touched another part of the viewscreen. “That’s a groundcar. Screen, magnification thirty. ”