The Ramal Extraction (18 page)

“You see? If it was awake, it would have jumped when I pricked it. Let’s get it out and into the cage.”

Four hands grabbed her, shoulders and behind the knees. A fifth hand reached between her legs to cup her
ruta
under her fur.

Ah. She might be a thing to them, but one of them was curious about her sexual organs. On this world, that would make him a deviant, but it was not a surprise.

Human males would mate with anything possible.

They lifted her.

“It is heavier than I expected,” one of them said.

As calm as she was, Kay allowed her smile to play. They wouldn’t know the expression even if they noticed it, not humans who called her “it.”

“Hurry up,” the fourth man said. That was the one in charge, she guessed. Best to keep that one alive.

Three of them were holding her, and the fourth’s position was easy to mark. She had both scent and hearing; she didn’t need to see.

She didn’t need to see—but she opened her eyes—

Both hoppers were in the air, and the entry plan set. Jo and Gunny would kick in the southwest door while he and Wink blasted in via the northeast entrance. They could toss concussion and photon grenades to stun anybody close to the doors. Gramps and Nancy would keep one hopper aloft and the vehicle’s guns ready to spike any enemy who came out or who arrived to come in after them. Simple, fast, direct, and in such chases, that was almost always the best way.

The warehouse did have sensor shields in place, which was not so good, so they couldn’t tell where everybody was, but they’d deal with that as it unfolded. Speed and surprise made up for a lot of things.

“ETA, forty-five seconds,” Nancy said.

“Pucker up,” Cutter said. He wanted to tell them to be careful and not shoot Kay, but they all knew what the stakes were.

“And it would be nice if we could keep one alive to chat with.”

“They hurt Kay, we’ll have to draw straws to see who gets to end that conversation,” Jo said.

“Aaiie! It’s awa—!”

Kay twisted and slashed with her left paw, removing half that man’s face. She stabbed him in the throat with her other claws as they dropped her—

—as she fell, she twisted and caught the second man with both hands behind his head and used her clawed feet to disembowel him—

—she shoved off his falling body, twisted, spun, and caught the third man, fleeing, from behind and swung him around as a shield—

—the fourth man fired a pistol at her, but the man she held absorbed the soft-target darts; he screamed as they punched into his flesh,
one-two-three-four-five—

—the shooter was only four meters away, and she shoved the wounded man at the shooter, dived to the right, rolled, came up, and sprang to her left, jinked back and forth twice as she charged him—

—he backed off as he saw her coming, but his weapon was aimed away from her and she was moving fast—

He must have realized he wouldn’t be able to get it lined up on her in time.

She showed him her fangs, gathered to spring—

—he had just enough time to shove the gun’s barrel under his own chin—

“No!” she yelled, already in midleap—

He fired. The sound was muffled where the muzzle
pressed against his throat. He collapsed bonelessly, and she sailed over his falling form.

“Jebi mi!”
she said as she landed.

Jo had her augs cranked and she was through the door and past any potential danger fast, before Gunny could get her grenades in play. She skidded to a stop, senses on full alert, questing for a target.

None in sight—

“Clear!” Jo yelled. No point in having the light show and loud noises.

“Jebi mi! Supak glupan glupak! Seljak mamlaz macola! Mentol seronja kaka!”

Jo grinned. Kay! And cursing like a pubful of sailors. Fem could take the paint off a battlewagon with such language. She didn’t sound hurt.

She sounded
mad
…

When Jo got to where Kay stood, looking down at four dead men, she said, “You had to kill them all?”

“I did
not
kill them all. I killed
those
two.
That
one shot
this
one, then shot his
jebanje
self. Holeass fornicator of his mother!”

Gunny arrived and pulled up. Four seconds later, Rags and Wink got there. They looked around.

Rags said, “Did you have to kill them all?”

Kay glared at him.

Jo laughed.

On the way back to HQ, Jo thought she might defuse some of Kay’s smoldering anger by getting her to talk.

“I’ve wondered: Why are the Vastalimi such fierce fighters? Yeah, you have the biological tools, the claws and teeth and speed, but what is it in your makeup, can you tell us?”

Kay looked at her. She thought about it for a couple of seconds.

“There is on my world a small predator, called a
gmiza
. Something like a Terran lizard, but with longer and more powerful legs. The size of a house cat, perhaps five kilograms, a
gmiza
can leap vertically more than twice the height of a tall Vastalimi.

“Its primary prey is a small bird, the
ptica
, which feeds on grass seed.

“The
gmiza
mate for life and hunt in pairs. They will crouch in low grass in
ptica
habitat, and their skin will take on the coloration of the background. Nearly invisible, they will wait until a flock lands to feed, but they are fast and agile enough to take prey on the wing.

“They have learned how to use the
ptica
’s startle response, and often one will show itself, causing a
ptica
flock to take flight toward its hidden mate.

“It is quite impressive to see a flock of
ptica
three meters above the ground and rising beset by a springing
gmiza
as it snatches one from flight and drops back into the grass.

“They have few natural enemies. There are larger predators who will take
gmiza
when they can catch one, but mostly, they don’t catch them. The ones large enough are generally too slow; the ones fast enough, not as fierce.

“
Gmiza
live in small, natural volcanic rock caves in the hills bordering grasslands, and anything big enough to threaten them usually cannot get through the entrance to their den.

“
Gmiza
have learned how to dry their food, using hot, flat rocks in the sunlight, and the plucked and desiccated bodies will keep for weeks. So even if a larger predator traps a pair of
gmiza
in their cave, they can feed and wait until it gets too hungry and leaves.

“There are Vastalimi who hunt
gmiza
. The creatures are not as fast as we are in a straight line, but are much more
agile and able to turn quicker and more acutely. Catching one is a challenge, for they know how to use the terrain, and they can dodge and weave among the rocks enough to frustrate the most adept Vastalimi pursuer. You might go out a dozen times and not collect any.

“As a people, we are not known for our patience, and we aren’t going to squat outside a cave and wait weeks for
gmiza
to run out of food. Of course, that is not the point—the challenge is to catch them afoot.

“It’s much easier to catch the birds they eat than the
gmiza
. So one collects a dozen birds, fogs them with chem that makes them tractable, then uses them as bait. If one is lucky, one can fool the
gmiza
into thinking the birds are legitimate quarry.

“However, the
gmiza
are wary and easily spooked. They are sight-hunters, and their vision keen, so the smallest wrong detail will make them vanish. One moment, the pair is almost in range; the next, they are in the wind.”

“Do you hunt them?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She said, “If you attack one, then you attack both; if you capture or kill one, its mate will go for you full out, and fight to the death.

“Picture it: They have no hope of winning, but they will sacrifice themselves to protect or, failing that, to avenge their mates. More than a few hunters have come home nursing wounds that festered, became infected, and caused serious illness, so it is not a completely trivial thing to hunt
gmiza
; still, the risk is minimal. A Vastalimi is bigger, stronger, and possessed of a sharper brain. All the
gmiza
has is an ability to dodge quickly, a defensive mode, and pure defense eventually loses to offense.

“But the creatures also have a willingness to die, and that makes them dangerous. They have a singular focus:

“A
gmiza
will attack a Vastalimi ten times, fifteen times
its size, certainly knowing it will not survive. How can one
not
admire the courage of such a steadfast being? And how could you take pleasure in defeating such? Only someone with a small ego would glory in besting an opponent with almost no potential chance of winning.

“If there is not much danger, how can there be much triumph?

“If you want to compliment a Vastalimi’s ability? Say, ‘She held. She fought like a
gmiza
.’”

Kay blinked, considered her words, said:

“There are better ways to improve your skills as a hunter and fighter. We have a saying:
‘Borba neckta tjova veli’cina.’
It means, ‘Attack one your own size.’”

They all nodded at that.

“A match against someone who might defeat you?
There
is a challenge.”

She looked at Jo, who nodded. Their matches were play and usually in Kay’s favor, but there was, Jo thought, a chance that she would prevail.

“There are among the Vastalimi fierce and adept warriors, males and females who can hold their own with half a dozen lesser-skilled opponents, those who live for the joy of close-quarters fighting, claw-to-claw. They are respected for their skills and ferocity, and they go places that provide opportunity for them to use both.

“The best of them tend to die young because they constantly test themselves against like fighters. A small error against an expert in a serious match often results in death for one or both.

“Those who survive sometimes become teachers of fighting methods, passing along what they have learned. I had such a teacher when I was a cub, an old male who had lost an arm in battle.