CHAPTER 35
Note
!RETROwrite the fact that many of the wounded are kept with Woodcarver
!ID Note that by now Woodcarver
! and Pilgrim probably know more about Straumli general culture than
! Johanna.
! Thus she is not the important information resource that she was before.
!PRB with this scene is that you talked about treatment of singletons some
! before, when Scriber was killed. Some of this may be repetitious. In any
! case, maybe you should have more remembering back to Scriber here.
!ID Later, in nursing the wounded, Johanna could think back to Scriber
! and feel good about what she is doing
!Could put in red sunlight through smoke here, though it would echo with
! your Barbarian Princess story
!ID IMP for climax. When interrogating Vendacious, learning that Jefri
! is still alive should be presaged so that there is a real feeling of
! joy. In fact this might even come out when Vendacious is
! teasing Johanna.
The only good thing about all the waiting had been the chance it gave the wounded. Now that Vendacious had found a way past the Flenserist defenses, everyone was anxious to break camp, but....
Johanna spent the last afternoon at the field hospital. The hospital was laid off in rough rectangles, each about six meters across. Some of the plots had ragged tents -- those belonging to wounded who were still smart enough to care for themselves. Others were surrounded by stranded fencing; inside each of those was a single member, the survivor of what had once been an entire pack. The singletons could easily have jumped the fences, but most seemed to recognize their purpose, and stayed within.
Johanna pulled the food cart through the area, stopping at first one patient and then another. The cart was a bit too large for her, and sometimes it got caught in the roots that grew across the the forest floor. Yet this was a job that she could do better than any pack, and it was nice to find a way she could help.
In the forest around the hospital there was the sound of kherhogs being coaxed up to wagon ties, the shouts of crews securing the cannons and getting the camp gear stowed. From the maps Vendacious had shown at the meeting, it was clear the next two days would be an exhausting time -- but at the end of it they would have the high ground behind unsuspecting Flenserists.
She stopped at the first little tent. The threesome inside had heard her coming and was outside now, running little circles around her cart. "Johanna! Johanna!" it said in her own voice. This was all that was left of one of Woodcarver's minor strategists; once upon a time, it had known some Samnorsk. The pack had originally been six; three had been killed by the wolves. What was left was the "talker" part -- about as bright as a five year old, though with an odd vocabulary. "Thank you for food. Thank you." Its muzzles pushed at her. She patted the heads before reaching into the cart and pulling out bowls of lukewarm stew. Two of them dug in right away, but the third sat back for a moment and chatted. "I hear, we fight soon."
Not you anymore, but "Yes. We are going up by the dry fall, just east of here."
"Uh, oh." It said. "Uh, oh. That's bad. Poor seeing, no control, ambush scary." Apparently the fragment had some memories of its own tactical work. But there was no way Johanna could explain Vendacious's reasoning to it. "Don't worry, we will make it okay."
"You sure? You promise?"
Johanna smiled gently at what was left of a rather nice fellow. "Yes. I promise."
"Ah-ah-ah.... Okay." Now all three had their muzzles stuck into stew bowls. This was one of the lucky ones, really. It showed plenty of interest in what went on around it. Just as important, it had childlike enthusiasms. Pilgrim said that fragments like this could grow back easily if they were just treated right long enough to bear a puppy or two.
She pushed the cart a few meters further, to the fenced square that was the symbolic corral for a singleton. There was a faint odor of shit in the air. Some of the singletons and duos were not housebroken; in any case, the camp latrines were a hundred meters away.
"Here, Blacky. Blacky?" Johanna banged an empty bowl against the side of the cart. A single head eased up from behind some root bushes; sometimes this one wouldn't even do that much. Johanna got on her knees so her eyes weren't much higher than the black-faced one. "Blacky?"
Note
!PRB again gender problem in referring to single members
The creature pulled himself out of the bushes and slowly approached. This was all that was left of one of Scrupilo's cannoneers. She vaguely remembered the pack, a handsome sixsome all large and fast. But now, even "Blacky" wasn't whole: a falling gun had crushed his rear legs. He dragged his legless rear on a little wagon with thirty centimeter wheels... sort of like a Skroderider with forelegs. She pushed a bowl of stew toward him, and made the noises that Pilgrim coached her in. Blacky had refused food the last three days, but today he rolled and walked close enough that she could pet his head. After a moment he lowered his muzzle to the stew.
Johanna grinned in surprised pleasure. This hospital was a strange place. A year ago she would have been horrified by it; even now she didn't have the proper Tinish outlook on the wounded. As she continued to pet Blacky's lowered head, Johanna looked across the forest floor at the crude tents, the patients and parts of patients. It really was a hospital. The surgeons did try to save lives, even if the medical science was a horrifying process of cutting and splinting without anesthetics. In that regard, it was quite comparable to the medieval human medicine that Johanna had seen on Dataset. But with the Tines there was something more. This place was almost a spare parts warehouse. The medics were interested in the welfare of packs. To them, singletons were pieces that might have a use in making larger fragments workable, at least temporarily. Injured singletons were at the bottom of all medical priorities. "There's not much left to save in such cases," one medic had said to her via Pilgrim, "And even if there was, would you want a crippled, loose-bonded member in your self?" The fellow had been too tired to notice the absurdity of his question. His muzzles had been dripping blood; he'd been working for hours to save wounded members of whole packs.
Note
!BKG:
!ID Sidebar about problems of translation, jabberwocky, possibility that
! things in a message only seem to make sense (in a sense, some form of
! evocation may be impossible to avoid).
! Zero coordinate language notion, and the problems therewith. For
! instance, you commonly translate units just by conversion. But if
! creatures are extraordinarily small, then this would conflict with the
! spirit of the zero coordinate approach.
!V Note that this paragraph does contain an echo of Scriber
Besides, most wounded singletons just stopped eating and died in less than a tenday. Even after a year with Tines, Johanna couldn't quite accept it. Every singleton reminded her of dear Scriber; she wanted them to have a better chance than his last remnant had. She had taken over the food cart and spent as much time with the wounded singletons as she did with any of the other patients. It had worked out well. She could get close to each patient without mindsound interference. Her help gave the brood kenners more time to study the larger fragments and the uninjured singletons, and try to build working packs from the wreckage.
And now maybe this one wouldn't starve. She'd tell Pilgrim. He'd done miracles with some of the other match ups, and seemed to be the only pack who shared some of her feelings for damaged singletons. "If they don't starve it often means a strength of mind. Even crippled, they could be an advantage to a pack," he'd said to her. "I've been crippled off and on in my travels; you can't always pick and choose when you're down to three and you're a thousand miles into an unknown land."
Johanna set a bowl of water beside the stew. After a moment, the crippled member turned on his axle and took some shallow sips. "Hang on, Blacky, we'll find someone for you to be."
Note
!ID TINES (but a little late): Maybe there is something special about the
! kind of pack who would use a lower protocol name SEQ
!ID TINES Low protocol names have apparent diminutives in this story (Amdi,
! Wicky, ...) but that is probably an artifact of the translation.
! In fact, the syllables are most likely piled up in a chord or two.
! Maybe should eliminate most such diminutives.
Chitiratte was where he was supposed to be, walking his post exactly as expected. Nevertheless, he felt a thrill of nervousness. He always kept at least one head gazing at the mantis creature, the Two-Legs. Nothing suspicious about that posture either. He was supposed to be doing security duty here, and that meant keeping a lookout in all directions. He shifted his crossbow nervously about from jaws to field pack and back to jaws. Just a few more minutes....
Note
!ID Heh, heh, could even have sidebars written by Pilgrim. This might
! actually be a compromise with your story frame idea SEQ
Chitiratte circled the hospital compound once more. It was soft duty. Even though this stretch of wood had been spared, the drywind fires had chased the bigger wildlife downstream. This close to the river, the ground was covered with softbush, and there was scarcely a thorn to be found. Pacing around the hospital was like a walk on Woodcarver's Green down south. A few hundred yards east was harder work -- getting the wagons and supplies in shape for the climb.
The fragments knew that something was up. Here and there, heads stuck up from pallets and burrows. They watched the wagons being loaded, heard the familiar voices of friends. The dumbest ones felt a call to duty; he had chased three able-bodied singles back into the compound. No way such feebs could be of any help. When the army marched up Margrum Climb, the hospital would stay behind. Chitiratte wished he could too. He'd been working for the Boss long enough to guess whence his orders ultimately came; Chitiratte suspected that not many would be coming back from Margrum Climb.
He turned three pairs of eyes toward the mantis creature. This latest job was the riskiest thing he'd been a part of. If it worked out he might just demand that the Boss leave him with the hospital. Just be careful, old fellow. Vendacious didn't get where he is by leaving loose ends. Chitiratte had seen what happened to that easterner who nosed a little too close into the Boss's business.
Damn but the human was slow! She'd been grunting at that one singleton for five minutes. You'd think she was having sex with these frags for all the time she spent with them. Well, she'd pay for the familiarity very soon. He started to cock his bow, then thought better of it. Accident, accident. It must all look like an accident.
Aha. The Two-legs was collecting food and water bowls and stowing them on the meal cart. Chitiratte made unobtrusive haste around the hospital perimeter, positioning himself in view of the Kratzi duo -- the fragment that would actually do the killing.
Note
!PRB INCON This sarcasm is in conflict with "a happy ending for all" a
! little later on FIXED
Kratzinissinari had been a foot trooper before losing the Nissinari parts of himself. He had no connection with the Boss or Security. But he'd been known as a crazy-headed get of bitches, a pack that was always on the edge of combat rage. Getting killed back to two members normally has a gentling influence. In this case -- well, the Boss claimed that Kratzi was specially prepared, a trap ready to be sprung. All Chitiratte need do was give the signal, and the duo would tear the mantis apart. A great tragedy. Of course, Chitiratte would be there, the alert hospital warden. He would quickly put arrows through Kratzi's brains ... but alas, not in time to save the Two-Legs.
The human dragged the meal cart awkwardly around root bushes toward Kratzi, her next patient. The duo came out of its burrow, speaking half-witted greetings that even Chitiratte could not understand. There were undertones though, a killing anger that edged its friendly mien. Of course, the mantis thing didn't notice. She stopped the cart, began filling food and water bowls, all the time grunting away at the twosome. In a moment, she would bend down to put the food on the ground.... For half an instant, Chitiratte considered shooting the mantis himself if Kratzi were not immediately successful. He could claim it was a tragic miss. He really didn't like the Two-Legs. The mantis creature was a menacing thing; it was so tall and moved so weirdly. By now he knew it was fragile compared to packs, but it was scary to think of a single animal so smart as this. He shelved the temptation even faster than he had thought it. No telling what price he might pay for that, even if they believed his shot was an accident. No altruism today, thank you very much; Kratzi's jaws and claws would have to do.
Note
!jrf2 "weirdly moving" is AWK FIXED
!QU should I try to make Chitiratte's references to Johanna be in the
! neuter gender? NÆH
One of Kratzi's heads was looking in Chitiratte's general direction. Now the mantis picked up the bowls and turned from the meal cart --
"Hei, Johanna! How is it going?"
Johanna looked up from the stew to see Peregrine Wickwrackscar walking along the edge of the hospital. He was moving to get as close as possible without invading the mind sounds of the patients. The guard who had stopped there a moment before retreated before his advance and stopped a few meters further on. "Pretty good," she called back. "You know the one on wheels? He actually ate some stew tonight."
"Good. I've been thinking about him and the threesome on the other side of the hospital."
"The wounded medic?"
"Yes. What's left of Trellelak is all female, you know. I've been listening to mind sounds and --" Pilgrim's explanation was delivered in fluent Samnorsk, but it didn't make much sense to Johanna. Brood kenning had so many concepts without referents in human language that even Pilgrim couldn't make it clear. The only obvious part was that since Blacky was a male, there was a chance that he and the medic threesome might have pups early enough to bind the group. The rest was talk of "mood resonance" and "meshing weak points with strong". Pilgrim claimed to be an amateur at brood kenning, but it was interesting the way the docs -- and even Woodcarver sometimes -- deferred to him. In his travels he had been through a lot. His matchups seemed to "take" more often than anybody's. She waved him to silence. "Okay. We'll try it soon as I've fed everybody."
Pilgrim cocked a head or two at the nearby hospital plots. "Something strange is going on. Can't quite 'put my finger on it', but ... all the fragments are watching you. Even more than usual. Do you feel it?"
Johanna shrugged. "No." She knelt to set the water and stew bowls before the twosome patient. The pair had been vibrating with eagerness, though they had been quite polite in not interrupting. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the hospital guard make a strange dipping motion with its two middle heads, and --
The blows were like two great fists smashing into her chest and face. Johanna fell to the ground, and they were on her. She raised bloody arms against the slashing jaws and claws.
Note
!QU PRB Is this action too slow to be plausible (especially the slowness
! with which Johanna's allies are noticed to be attacking?)? NÆH
When Chitiratte gave the signal, both of Kratzi leaped into action -- crashing into each other, almost incidentally knocking the mantis on her back. Their claws and teeth were tearing at empty air and each other as much as the Two-legs. For an instant, Chitiratte was struck motionless with surprise. She might not be dead. Then he remembered himself and jumped over the fence, at the same time cocking and loading his bow. Maybe he could miss the first shot. Kratzi was shredding the mantis, but slow --
Suddenly, there was no possibility of shooting the twosome. A wave of snarling black and white surged over Kratzi and the mantis. Every able-bodied fragment in the hospital seemed to be running to the attack. It was instant killing rage, far wilder than anything that could come from whole packs. Chitiratte fell back in astonishment before the sight and the mindsound of it.
Even the pilgrim seemed caught up in it; the pack raced past Chitiratte and circled the melee. The pilgrim never quite plunged in, but nipped here and there, screaming words that were lost in the general uproar.
A splash of coordinated mindsound boomed out from the mob, so loud it numbed Chitiratte twenty yards away. The mob seemed to shrink in on itself, the frenzy gone from most of its members. What had been near a single beast with two dozen bodies was suddenly a confused and bloody crowd of random members.
The pilgrim still ran around the edge, somehow keeping his mind and purpose. His huge, scarred member dived in and out of the remaining crowd, clawing at anything that still fought.
The patients dragged themselves away from the killing ground. Some that had gone in as threesomes or duos came out single. Others seemed more numerous than before. The ground that was left was soaked with blood. At least five members had died. Near the middle, a pair of prosthetic wheels lay incongruously.
The pilgrim paid it all no attention. The four of him stood around and over the bloody mound at the center.
Note
!QU Have I used this "happy ending" ploy before? (or even worse, is it
! reminiscent of someone else's writing?)
! Hmm. I may have used it in my recounting of the Detective and the
! Martians in MiRT
!Chapter TITLE: "A Happy Ending for All the Survivors"
!The following seems to FIX all this:
Chitiratte smiled to himself. Mantis splatter. Such a tragedy.
Note
!QU what do you think of this quick cut technique in suspense/action?
Johanna never quite lost consciousness, but the pain and the suffocating weight of dozens of bodies left no room for thought. Now the pressure eased. Somewhere beyond the local din she could hear shouts of normal Tinish talk. She looked up and saw Pilgrim standing all around her. Scarbutt was straddling her, its muzzle centimeters away. It reached down and licked her face. Johanna smiled and tried to speak.
Note
!QU Preceding use of italics too kinky? FIXED
!QU Is it too flippant?
!ID BKG With advent of technology, brood kenning could become even more
! interesting. SEQ
!V BKG if I had it to do all over, might argue that Tines don't have
!V gender, but animals (and individual members) do
!SEQ could have other cultures/languages of packs that have explicitly
! finer gradations for pack gender.
!V ID You might still have the notion of different word for gender for
!V a pack
!V but see <modes>
Note
!V from CHAR: Vendacious is six
Vendacious had arranged to be in conference with Scrupilo and Woodcarver. Just now the "Commander of Cannoneers" was deep into tactics, using Dataset to illustrate his scheme for Margrum Climb.
Squalls of rage sounded from down by the river.
Note
!CHK if you had previously given Scrupilo a title.
!QU Is this sentence too awkward?
!PRB BKG Work on everybody's modes of swearing
!V Way back in c01 Pilgrim uses 'hell'
Scrupilo looked up peevishly from the Pink Oliphaunt. "What the muddy hell --"
The sounds continued, more than a casual brawl. Woodcarver and Vendacious exchanged worried glances even as they arched necks to see among the trees. "A fight in the hospital?" said the Queen.
Vendacious dropped his note board and lunged out of the meeting area, shouting for the local guards to stay with the Queen. As he raced across the camp, he could see that his roving guards were already converging on the hospital. Everything seemed as smooth as a program on Dataset ... except, why so much noise?
The last few hundred yards, Scrupilo caught up with him and pulled ahead. The cannoneer raced into the hospital and stumbled over himself in abrupt horror. Vendacious burst into the clearing all prepared to display his own shock combined with alert resolve.
Note
!ID BKG Hmm, may need a new meaning for "dismemberment" (betcha I already
! used that new meaning in a Steel scene somewhere
!BKG Somewhere want to make it clear that Tines' hearing from
! 0-10KHz is not
! especially better/worse than humans'. Be good to write this in. You
! may also want to decide on some details of the (small) differences.
!CHK Capitalize "pilgrim" consistently
!QU Is it consistent for Vendacious to call Pilgrim, "sir"?
!V CHK Chitiratte or Chitiratte
Peregrine Wickwrackscar was standing by a meal cart, Chitiratte not far behind him. The pilgrim was standing over the Two-Legs in a litter of carnage. By the Pack of Packs, what happened? There was too much blood by far. "Everybody back except the doctors," Vendacious bellowed at the soldiers who crowded at the edge of the compound. He picked his way along a path that avoided the loudest-minded patients. There were a lot of fresh wounds, and here and there speckles of blood dark on the pale tree trunks. Something had gone wrong.
Meanwhile Scrupilo had run around the edge of the hospital and was standing just a few dozen yards from the Pilgrim. Most of him was staring at the ground under Wickwrackscar. "It's Johanna! Johanna!" For a moment it looked like the fool would jump over the fence.
"I think she's okay, Scrupilo." Wickwrackscar said. "She was just feeding one of the duos and it went nuts -- attacked her."
One of the doctors looked over the carnage. There were three corpses on the ground, and blood enough for more. "I wonder what she did to provoke them."
"Nothing, I tell you! But when she went down, half the hospital went after Whatsits here." He waggled a nose at unidentifiable remains.
Vendacious looked at Chitiratte, at the same time saw Woodcarver arrive. "What about it, Soldier?" he asked. Don't screw up, Chitiratte.
"I-it's just like the pilgrim says, my lord. I've never seen anything like it." He sounded properly astounded by the whole affair.
Vendacious stepped a little closer to the Pilgrim. "If you'll let me take a closer look, Pilgrim?"
Wickwrackscar hesitated. He had been snuffling around the girl, looking for wounds that might need immediate attention. Then the girl nodded weakly to him, and he backed off.
Vendacious approached, all solemn and solicitous. Inside he raged. He'd never heard of anything like this. But even if the whole damn hospital had come to her aid, she should still be dead; the Kratzi duo could have ripped her throat out in half a second. His plan had seemed fool-proof (and even now the failure would cause no lasting damage), but he was just beginning to understand what had gone wrong: For days, the human had been in contact with these patients, even Kratzi. No Tinish doctor could approach and touch them like the Two-Legs. Even some whole packs felt the effect; for fragments it must be overwhelming. In their inner soul, most of the patients considered the alien part of themselves.
Note
!jrf Vernor: This is wonderful! <beginning with ": For">
!jrf Last sentence in paragraph bracketed
He looked at the Two-Legs from three sides, mindful that fifty packs of eyes were watching his every move. Very little of the blood was from the Two-Legs. The cuts on her neck and arms were long and shallow, aimless slashings. At the last minute, Kratzi's conditioning had failed before the notion of the human as pack member. Even now, a quick flick of a forepaw would rip the girl's throat open. He briefly considered putting her under Security medical protection. The ploy had worked well with Scriber, but it would be very risky here. Pilgrim had been nose to nose with Johanna; he would be suspicious of any claims about "unexpected complications". No. Even good plans sometimes fail. Count it as experience for the future. He smiled at the girl and spoke in Samnorsk, "You're quite safe now," for the moment and quite unfortunately. The human's head turned to the side, looking off in the direction of Chitiratte.
Scrupilo had been pacing back and forth along the fence, so close to Chitiratte and Pilgrim that the two had been forced back. "I won't have it!" The cannoneer said loudly. "Our most important person attacked like this. It smells of enemy action!"
Wickwrackscar goggled at him. "But how?"
Note
!Small PRB Terminology for "Johanna" that is consistent within each
! viewpoint
!PRB Decide on the terms for medical stuff: nurse, doctor, medic, surgeon
! barber, corpsman, ...
!PRB nature of wounds to Johanna, both here and at beginning of book, to
! be consistent with story:
! It was suggested that blood loss could plausibly be Johanna's
! injury at the initial ambush of the refugee ship, and concussion could
! be the injury in this scene with Chitiratte
!Possible INCON Have I been consistent about Tines eye color? and non-
! beadiness (or beadiness) of the eyes. From the Blabber I don't see
! how I can reasonably characterize their eyes as "beady"
!V I think so; see TINES.TXT
"I don't know!" Scrupilo said, his voice a desperate shout. "But she needs protection as much as nursing. Vendacious must find some place to keep her."
The pilgrim pack was clearly impressed by the argument -- and unnerved by it. He inclined a head at Vendacious and spoke with uncharacteristic respect, "What do you think?"
Note
!PRB Lots of awkward sentences. Odd word orderings, shoehorning.
Of course, Vendacious had been watching the Two-legs. It was interesting how little humans could disguise their point of attention. Johanna had been staring at Chitiratte, now she was looking up at Vendacious, her shifty little close-set eyes narrowing. Vendacious had made a project this last year of studying human expressions, both on Johanna and in stories in Dataset. She suspected something. And she also must have understood part of Scrupilo's speech. Her back arched and one arm fell raised weakly. Fortunately for Vendacious, her shout came out a whisper that even he could scarcely hear: "No ... not like Scriber."
Note
!V June 15, 1991 Look up Chitiratte in Gilliland or C. S. Lewis. If not
!V there, use it instead of Chitirattifor June 16, 1991 DONE
!V June 16, 1991 Gilliland has a Chittabob on ~p29 42 of
!V Who Says Paranoia Isn't "In" Anymore
!V Göglosh
Vendacious was a pack who believed in careful planning. He also knew that the best-made schemes must be altered by circumstances. He looked down at Johanna and smiled with the gentlest public sympathy. It would be risky to kill her like Scriber's frag, but now he saw that the alternatives were far more dangerous. Thank goodness Woodcarver was stuck with her limper on the other side of the camp. He nodded back at Pilgrim and drew himself together. "I fear Scrupilo is right. Just how it might have been done, I don't know, but we can't take a chance. We'll take Johanna to my den. Tell the Queen." He pulled cloaks from his backs and began gently to wrap the human for the last trip she would ever make. Only her eyes protested.
Note
!QU How can I make her immobility plausible? How can I make her being
! given to Vendacious be plausible?
Johanna drifted in and out of consciousness, horrified at her inability to scream her fears. Her strongest cries were less than whispers. Her arms and legs responded with little more than twitches, even that lost in Vendacious's swaddling. Concussion, maybe, something like that, the explanation came from some absurdly rational corner of her mind. Everything seemed so far away, so dark....
Johanna woke in her cabin at Woodcarver's. What a terrible dream! That she had been so cut up, unable to move, and then thinking Vendacious was a traitor. She tried to shrug herself to a sitting position, but nothing moved. Darn sheets are all wrapped around me. She lay quiet for a second, still massively disoriented by the dream. "Woodcarver?" she tried to say, but only a little moan came out. Some member moved gently around the firepit. The room was only dimly lit, and something was wrong with it. Johanna wasn't lying in her usual place. There was a moment of puzzled lassitude as she tried to make sense of the orientation of the dark walls. Funny. The ceiling was awfully low. Everything smelled like raw meat. The side of her face hurt, and she tasted blood on her lips. She wasn't at Woodcarver's and that terrible dream was --
Three Tinish heads drifted in silhouette nearby. One came closer, and in the dim light she recognized the pattern of white and black on its face. Vendacious.
"Good," he said, "You are awake."
"Where am I?" the words came out slurred and weak. The terror was back.
Note
!CHKd "cotter's hut" okay, though it implies a person who is working for
!V a landowner
"The abandoned cotter's hut at the east end of the camp. I've taken it over. As a security den, you know." His Samnorsk was quiet and fluent, spoken in one of the generic voices of Dataset. One of his jaws carried a dagger, the blade a glint in the dimness.
Johanna twisted in the tied cloaks and whispered screams. Something was wrong with her; it was like shouting on empty breath.
Note
!PRB If Vendacious has an extensive staff in on the conspiracy, then it
! seems like word would get back to Steel of any bad thing happening
! to Vendacious.
! Even if he doesn't have lotsa accomplices, seems like independent agents
! would probably notice that he had been caught. Just another reason for
! for eliding what happens after he gives up.
!PRB general: Have to make the close-bonding paradigm of pack
! consciousness clear.
! "Telepathy" is not in general possible (though you might have a little,
! including the "headsman" example discussed with MG)
!
!QU PRB/opportunity: Why Peregrine and Vendacious talking in Samnorsk
!One looking out, light on face
!Comments on no one nearby, and perhaps on what his strategy is
! This could obviate necessity of sparring with Johanna.
! Perhaps this could be an opportunity to say something about his
! motives.
!Why is Vendacious what he is?
! Too male (this for tie in with the plot gimmick in "The Blabber")
! This will still need retrowriting
! Xeno-freudian
! Clearly he's on a power trip
!What he knows of Steel
! The ambush plans
! Steel has some access to Spacer knowledge ... probably Jefri is alive
!Vendacious plans to dominate with use of dataset
! Note that you don't really have to say how
! That might be his reason for torturing her now
! (Didn't torture Scriber)
!
!So what are Peregrine's real and ostensible purposes in coming by?
!"Don't do anything foolish, Vendacious, Old Man"
!
!Pilgrim could make some interesting threats that tie up with the fact
! that most people really like Johanna
!
!Johanna's ultimate reaction
!Losing consciousness again ... killing jaws and paws, now gentle,
! without tines
One of Vendacious paced the hut's upper level. Daylight splashed across its muzzle as it peered out first one and then another of the narrow slits cut in the timbers. "Ah, it's good that you don't pretend. I could see that you somehow guessed about my second career. My hobby. But screaming -- even loud -- won't help either. We have only a brief time to chat. I'm sure the Queen will come visiting soon ... and I will kill you just before she arrives. So sad. Your hidden wounds were tragically severe...."
Johanna wasn't sure of all he said. Her vision blurred every time she moved her head. Even now she couldn't remember the details of what had happened back in the hospital compound. Somehow Vendacious was a traitor, but how ... memories wriggled past the pain. "You did murder Scriber, didn't you? Why?" Her voice came louder than before, and she choked on blood dribbling back down her throat.
Note
!PRB QU: gotta do this so it does not appear to be [USA1990]homophobic
! or [USA1990]heterophobic! Seems like it might be taken both
! ways by different readers.
!ID QU: You know, you might make Vendacious all but one female. Thus,
! you'd
! have a different sort of pathology for that type of one-sex: The trapper
! v the hunter.
!V IMP SOLN This paragraph does cover you for "The Blabber"; you may
!V still want some comment elsewhere (though note that the one-sex
!V peril would not be so serious when there are plenty of other
!V packs around).
Soft, human, laughter came from all around her. "He learned the truth about me. Ironic that such an incompetent would be the only one to see through me.... Or do you mean a larger why?" The three nearby muzzles moved closer still, and the blade in one's jaw patted the side of Johanna's cheek. "Poor Two-Legs, I'm not sure you could ever understand. Some of it, the will to power maybe. I've read what Dataset has to say about human motivation, the 'freudian' stuff. We Tines are much more complicated. I am almost entirely male, did you know that? A dangerous thing to be, all one sex. Madness lurks. Yet it was my decision. I was tired of being an indifferently good inventor, of living in Woodcarver's shadow. So many of us are her get, and she dominates most all of us. She was quite happy about my going into Security, you know. She doesn't quite have the combination of members for it. She thought that all male but one would make me controllably devious."
Note
!INCON: Earlier, you have Tyrathect ignorant that Vendacious is the spy
! at Woodcarver's
!PRB QU: Too much like my other Tinish villains?
!PRB somewhere need a comment that he can't visibly mutilate her very much.
!V "scattered" sentence is a good idea, but somewhat unclear
!V June 11, 1991 Someplace indicate they have more personality info
!V on Steel. June 16, 1991 see c24 Woodcarver comment
His sentry member made another round of the window slits. Again there was a human chuckle. "I've been planning a long time. It's not just Woodcarver I'm up against. The power-side of her soul is scattered all over the arctic coast; Flenser had almost a century headstart on me; Steel is new, but he has the empire Flenser built. I made myself indispensable to all of them: I'm Woodcarver's chief of security ... and Steel's most valued spy. Played aright, I will end up with Dataset and all the others will be dead."
His blade tapped her face again. "Do you think you can help me?" Eyes peered close into her terror. "I doubt it very much. If my proper plan had succeeded, you would be neatly dead now." A sigh breathed around the room. "But that failed, and I'm stuck with carving you up myself. And yet it may all turn out for the best. Dataset is a torrent of information about most things, but it scarcely acknowledges the existence of torture. In some ways, your race seems so fragile, so easily killable. You die before your minds can be dismembered. Yet I know you can feel pain and terror; the trick is to apply force without quite killing."
The three nearby members snuggled into more comfortable positions, like a human settling down for serious talk. "And there are some questions you may be able to answer, things I couldn't really ask before. Steel is very confident, you know, and it's not just because he has me with Woodcarver. That pack has some other advantage. Could he have his own Dataset?"
Vendacious paused. Johanna didn't answer, her silence a combination of terror and stubbornness. This was the monster that killed Scriber.
Note
!V June 2, 1991
The muzzle with the knife slid between the blankets and Johanna's skin, and pain shot up Johanna's arm. She screamed. "Ah, Dataset said a human could be hurt there. No need to answer that one, Johanna. Do you know what I think is Steel's secret? I think one of your family survived -- most likely your little brother, considering what you've told us about the massacre."
Jefri? Alive? For an instant she forgot the pain, almost forgot the fear. "How...?"
Vendacious gave a Tinish shrug. "You never saw him dead. You can be sure Steel wanted a live Two-Legs, and after reading about cold sleep in Dataset, I doubt he could have revived any of the others. And he's got something up there. He's been eager for information from Dataset, but he's never demanded I steal the device for him."
Johanna closed her eyes, denying the traitor pack's existence. Jefri lives! Memories rose before her: Jefri's playful joy, his childish tears, his trusting courage aboard the refugee ship.... things she had thought forever lost to her. For a moment they seemed more real than the slashing violence of the last few minutes. But what could Jefri do to help the Flenserists? The other datasets had surely burned. There's something more here, something that Vendacious still is missing.
Note
!jrf |||||||||what is the
!jrf something??
!V That Jefri must be communicating with the outside.
!V IMP really do need to upgrade your attention on Oliphaunt and
!V explain why no other automation is available.
Vendacious grabbed her chin, and gave her head a little shake. "Open your eyes; I've learned to read them, and I want to see.... Hmm, I don't know if you believe me or not. No matter. If we have time, I will learn just what he might have done for Steel. There are other, sharper questions. Dataset is clearly the key to all. In less than half a year, I and Woodcarver and Pilgrim have learned an enormous amount about your race and civilization. I daresay we know your people better than you do -- sometimes I think we know them even better than we know our own world. When all the violence is over, the winner will be the pack that still controls Dataset. I intend to be that pack. And I've often wondered if there are other passwords, or programs I can run that would actually watch for my safety --"
The babysitter code.
The watching heads bobbed a grin, "Aha, so there is such a thing! Perhaps this morning's bad luck is all for the best. I might never have learned --" his voice broke into dischords. Two of Vendacious jumped up to join the one already at the window slits. Softly by her ear, the voice continued, "It's the Pilgrim, still far away, but coming toward us.... I don't know. You would be much better safely dead. One deep wound, all out of sight." The knife slide further down. Johanna arched futilely back from the point. Then the blade withdrew, the point poised gently against her skin. "Let's hear what Pilgrim has to say. No point in killing you this instant if he doesn't insist on seeing you." He pushed a cloth into her mouth and tied it tight.
Note
!RETRO Somewhere should explicitly justify why interpack speech is
! generally audible to humans June 16, 1991 See Johanna commentary
! earlier (award ceremony?)
!V I really think I do that somewhere (a little in the discussion of
!V Hightalk in c02)
There was a moment of silence, maybe the crunch of paws in the brush right around the cabin. Then she heard a pack warble loud from beyond the timbered walls. Johanna doubted that she would ever learn to recognize packs by their voices, but ... her mind stumbled through the sounds, trying to decode the Tinish chords that were words piled on top of one another: "Johanna something interrogative screech safe."
Vendacious gobbled back,"Hail Peregrine Wrickwrackscar Johanna trill not visible hurts sad uncertain squeak."
And the traitor murmured in her ear: "Now he'll ask if I need medical help, and if he insists ... our chat will have an early end."
But the only reply Pilgrim made was a chorus of sympathetic worry. "Damn assholes are just sitting down out there," came Vendacious's irritated whisper.
The silence stretched on a moment, and then Peregrine's human voice, the Joker from Dataset, said in clear Samnorsk. "Don't do anything foolish, Vendacious, old man."
Vendacious made a sound of polite surprise -- and tensed around her. His knife jabbed a centimeter deep between Johanna's ribs, a thorn of pain. She could feel the blade trembling, could feel his member's breath on her bloody skin.
Pilgrim's voice continued, confident and knowing: "I mean we know what you're up to. Your pack at the hospital has gone completely to pieces, confessed what little he knew to Woodcarver. Do you think your lies can get by her? If Johanna is dead, you'll be bloody shreds." He hummed an ominous tune from Dataset. "I know her well, the Queen. She seems such a gracious pack ... but where do you think Flenser got his gruesome creativity? Kill Johanna and you'll find just how far her genius in that exceeds Flenser's."
Note
!V June 11, 1991 Previous paragraph threat seems a bit extreme to claim
!V for Woodcarver June 16, 1991 TUF
The knife pulled back. One more of Vendacious leaped to the window slits, and the two by Johanna loosened their grip. He stroked the blade gently across her skin. Thinking? Is Woodcarver really that fearsome? The four at the windows were looking in all directions; no doubt Vendacious was counting guard packs and planning furiously. When he finally replied, it was in Samnorsk: "The threat would be more credible if it were not at second hand."
Pilgrim chuckled. "True. But we guessed what would happen if she approached. You're a cautious fellow; you'd have killed Johanna instantly, and been full of lying explanation before you even heard what the Queen knows. But seeing a poor pilgrim amble over ... I know you think me a fool, only one step better than Scriber Jaqueramaphan." Peregrine stumbled on the name, and for an instant lost his flippant tone. "Anyway, now you know the situation. If you doubt, send your guards beyond the brush; look at what the Queen has surrounding you. Johanna dead only kills you. Speaking of which, I assume this conversation has some point?"
"Yes. She lives." Vendacious slipped the gag from Johanna's mouth. She turned her head, choking. There were tears running down the sides of her face. "Pilgrim, oh Pilgrim!" The words were scarcely more than a whisper. She drew a painful breath, concentrated on making noise. Bright spots danced before her eyes. "Hei Pilgrim!"
Note
!QU Is it sufficiently plausible that a pack can tell that the voice isn't
! faked even though a human couldn't?
"Hei Johanna. Has he hurt you?"
"Some, I --"
"That's enough. She's alive, Pilgrim, but that's easily corrected." Vendacious didn't jam the gag back in her mouth. Johanna could see him rubbing heads nervously as he paced round and round the ledge. He trilled something about "stalemated game".
Note
!V But also using Samnorsk means guards can't overhear INCON NÆH
Peregrine replied, "Speak Samnorsk, Vendacious. I want Johanna to understand -- and you can't talk quite as slick as in pack talk."
"Whatever." The traitor's voice was unconcerned, but his members kept up their nervous pacing. "The Queen must realize we have a standoff here. Certainly I'll kill Johanna if I'm not treated properly. But even then, Woodcarver could not afford to hurt me. Do you realize the trap Steel has set on Margrum Climb? I'm the only one who knows how to avoid it."
"Big deal. I never wanted to go up Margrum anyway."
"Yes, but you don't count, Pilgrim. You're a mongrel patchwork. Woodcarver will understand how dangerous this situation is. Steel's forces are everything I said they weren't, and I've been sending them every secret I could write down from my investigations of Dataset."
"My brother is alive, Pilgrim," Johanna said.
Note
!PRB More sense involvement in this scene; eg, smell.
!PRB QU Also it seems a little artificial with just the two of them?
"Oh.... You're kind of a record setter for treason aren't you, Vendacious? Everything to us was a lie, while Steel learned all the truth about us. You figure that means we daren't kill you now?"
Laughter, and Vendacious's pacing stopped. He sees control coming back to him. "More, you need my full-membered cooperation. See, I exaggerated the number of enemy agents in Woodcarver's troops, but I do have a few -- and maybe Steel has planted others I don't know about. If you even arrest me, word will get back to the Flenser armies. Much of what I know will be useless -- and you'll face an immediate, overwhelming attack. You see? The Queen needs me."
"And how do we know this is not more lies?"
"That is a problem, isn't it? Matched only by how I can be guaranteed safety once I've saved the expedition. No doubt it's beyond your mongrel mind. Woodcarver and I must have a talk, someplace mutually safe and unseen. Carry that message back to her. She can't have this traitor's hides, but if she cooperates she may be able to save her own!"
Note
!ID Go back and have the Samnorsk be so that the guards can't follow
! what's going on?
!CHK these assertions and review the analogs of birds and insects
There was silence from outside, punctuated by the squeaking of animals in the nearer trees. Finally, surprisingly, Pilgrim laughed. "Mongrel mind, eh? Well, you have me in one thing, Vendacious. I've been all the world round, and I remember back half a thousand years
-- but of all the villains and traitors and geniuses, you take the record for bald impudence!"
Vendacious gave a Tinish chord, untranslatable but as a sign of smug pleasure. "I'm honored."
"Very well, I'll take your points back to the Queen. I hope the two of you are clever enough to work something out.... One thing more: the Queen requires that Johanna come with me."
"The Queen requires? That sounds more like your mongrel sentiment to me."
"Perhaps. But it will prove you are serious in your confidence. View it as my price for cooperation."
Vendacious turned all his heads toward Johanna, silently regarding. Then he scanned out all the windows one last time. "Very well, you may have her." Two jumped down to the cabin's hatch while another pair pulled her toward it. His voice was soft and near her ear. "Damn Pilgrim. Alive, you're just going to cause me trouble with the Queen." His knife slid across her field of view. "Don't oppose me with her. I am going to survive this affair still powerful."
He lifted back the hatch and daylight spilled blindingly across her face. She squinted; there was a sweep of branches and the side of the hut. Vendacious pushed and pulled her cot onto the forest floor, and the same time gobbling at his guards to keep their positions. He and Peregrine chatted politely, agreeing on when the pilgrim would return.
One by one, Vendacious trotted back through the cabin's hatch. Pilgrim advanced and grabbed the handles at the front of the cot. One of his pups reached out from his jacket to nuzzled her face. "You okay?"
"I'm not sure. I got bashed in the head ... and it seems kind of hard to breathe."
He loosened the blankets from around her chest as the rest of him dragged the cot away from the hut. The forest shade was peaceful and deep ... and Vendacious's guards were stationed here and there about the area. How many were really in on the treason? Two hours ago, Johanna had looked to them for protection. Now their every glance sent a shiver through her. She rolled back to the center of the cot, dizzy again, and stared up into the branches and leaves and patches of smoke-stained sky. Things like Straumli tree squigglies chased each other back and forth, chittering in seeming debate.
Note
!V June 2, 1991 slightly repetitive
Funny. Almost a year ago Pilgrim and Scriber were dragging me around, and I was even worse hurt, and terrified of everything -- including them. And now ... she had never been so glad to see another person. Even Scarbutt was a reassuring strength, walking beside her.
The waves of terror slowly subsided. What was left was an anger as intense, though more reasoning, than the year before. She knew what had happened here; the players were not strangers, the betrayal was not random murder. After all Vendacious's treachery, after all his murders, and his planning to kill them all ... he was going to go free! Pilgrim and Woodcarver were just going to overlook that, "He killed Scriber, Pilgrim. He killed Scriber...." He cut Scriber to pieces, then chased down what was left and killed that right out of our arms. "And Woodcarver is going to let him go free? How can she do it? How can you do it?" The tears were coming again.
"Sh, sh." Two of Pilgrim's heads came into view. They looked down at her, then swiveled around almost nervously. She reached out, touching the short plush fur. Pilgrim was shivering! One of him dipped close; his voice didn't sound jaunty at all. "I don't know what the Queen will do, Johanna. She doesn't know about any of this."
"Wha --"
"Sh." And his voice became scarcely a buzzing through her hand. "His people can still see us. He could still figure things out.... Only you and I know, Johanna. I don't think anyone else suspects."
"But the pack that confessed ...?"
"Bluff, all bluff. I've done some crazy things in my life but next to following Scriber down to your starship, this takes the prize.... After Vendacious took you away, I began to think. You weren't that badly injured. It was all too much like what happened to Jaqueramaphan, but I had no proof."
"And you haven't told anyone?"
"No. Foolish as poor Scriber, aren't I?" His heads looked in all directions. "If I was right, he'd be silly not to kill you immediately. I was so afraid I was already too late...."
You would have been, if Vendacious weren't quite the monster I know he is.
"Anyway, I learned the truth just like poor Scriber -- almost by accident. But if we can get another seventy meters away, we won't die like him. And everything I claimed to Vendacious will be true."
She patted his nearest shoulder, and looked back. The tiny cabin and its ring of guards disappeared behind the forest brush.
...and Jefri lives!
Note
!jrf Nice work!!