Entering the Charnel Pit, Ram scanned the tavern.
An empty table beckoned, and he folded his long
frame onto its stool and delicately leaned an elbow
on the least filthy spot of the scarred surface.
Shifting his body slightly, he observed the milling
crowd with frequent glances toward the entry.
Garbed in earth-toned street clothes, he had just
left his room at the Condor, his mind on Drummer.
Their meeting at the landing pad had been proper
and courteous, with no attempts at prying, either
way. Confining themselves to amenities, they
spoke of tedious space jumps, the quality of
accommodations in various parts of the system,
and generalities on a better life for humankind
from a benevolent Slingshot.
Drummer had taken leave following Ram's inspecting
his lodgings at the Condor and shrugging them
acceptable under the circumstances. Departing,
Drummer informed Ram that he would call for him
or send an escort as soon as a suitable time for his
meeting could be arranged with President Narval.
Ram expressed his trust that the meeting would be
soon and productive.
As his eyes accustomed to the bar-room's
smoke-diffused lighting the harsh faces of
the jostling crowd emerged. A frontier, indeed,
he mused. Satisfied that he drew no untoward
attention, he glanced once more toward the door
and signaled a robo-dispenser.
A face drifted past, paused for the briefest
moment, and moved on. It was enough. Ram gave
no outward sign, but felt less alone. Hodak ambled
to the bar, where the drinkers greeted him and
jovially made room. An hour and several drinks
slipped by. Hodak and Ram ignored each other.
A small man in a nondescript tunic sidled up Ram's
table.
"Xindral?" He wheezed.
Ram glanced at him and away. He remained silent.
"I have a message for Ram Xindral."
"Give it."
"If you're Xindral, the person you're here to see
prefers to meet with you away from his normal
place of business. I am to guide you to the meeting.
Follow me."
"Name the man who sent you?"
"Drummer."
"Why didn't he come himself?"
"He is with his superior at the meeting place."
Ram was suspicious. It could be a trap. On the
other hand, it was not unreasonable that Narval
might want to meet away from the formal seat of
government. His options were limited. If Drummer
had really sent the message, and he refused the
escort, the meeting with Narval would be off to a
bad start, perhaps canceled.
The messenger stood by, subservient, waiting.
Ram brought his hands to his forehead as if
deliberating a decision, and gently rubbed his
temple to cover a flashing glance at Hodak. Hodak
subtly acknowledged the sign.
"Be with you as soon as I finish my drink," Ram
said.
Taking a sip, he placed the goblet on the table and
began to fish about in his tunic pockets, clumsy and
time-consuming. Finally, he rose slowly, towering
over the small man.
"Lead on," he said.
Alarms shrilled in Hodak's mind as he recognized
the person speaking with Ram. What were Scarf's
stooge and Ram discussing? Ram's mission to Planet
Pluto was clearly diplomatic and entirely Drummer's
show. Drummer would not have knowingly accepted
Scarf's involvement in the proceedings.
Ram's surreptitious glance in his direction and
deliberate clumsy hesitation imparted doubts
concerning his predicament. Hodak stretched,
quickly finished his drink, paid his tab, and
slapped drinking partners' shoulders good-bye. He
sauntered toward the door, left the bar-room and,
outside, turned away as Ram and his escort emerged
and moved off. Hodak turned casually to observe.
A man in a dark tunic slipped out from a shadow
along the wall and followed behind Ram. Another
trailed further behind. As Hodak watched, two more
moved out of an alley and took positions ahead of
Ram and his escort. Ram was boxed.
Hodak followed, barely close enough to distinguish
Ram's swaying form in the street crowds.
Ram's guide moved toward a break in the wall and
motioned Ram to follow. Hodak saw Ram hesitate,
speak harshly, and draw back. He was too late.
The others closed in and pushed him forward.
Ram stumbled, tripped, fell, tried to rise. Arms
whipped about and he stayed down. The four lifted
and dragged him through the breach. The fifth
waited until they disappeared and darted away.
It had happened fast.
Direct intervention on his part, Hodak realized,
would be extremely hazardous. Recognition would
instantly compromise the Sentinel mission. He
had to help Ram in a way that would not disclose
his own identity.
He slipped silently into the alley.
From up ahead came rumbled curses and harsh
laughter; they were sure of themselves.
Hodak's eyes searched the shadows without success
except for the grind of boots on stony detritus and
the scrape of a weight being dragged. He closed the
gap, counting on the procession ignoring their rear.
The sounds muted and stopped. Peering from a
recessed slot along the wall he saw Ram's abductors
crowd around the entry to an open utility. One of
them crawled in and Ram's unconscious form passed
to him. The remaining three followed and the cover
drawn into place.
Hodak moved swiftly to the entry and pressed his
ear against its thick cover. Shifting position and
scooping aside loose dirt and pebbles, he pressed
his ear first against the ground then back to the
cover. Scraping noises from the other side were
audible, but diminishing.
The odds were not with him but timing and surprise
might even them a bit. Lifting the cover slowly, he
felt the texture of the surface and slipped into the
dimness beyond. He crouched in the rubble, the faint
sounds giving him direction.
The tunnel lights were low and flickering, their
sconces widely spaced. It was enough.
Working his way forward along the tunnel, short
dashes from one bend to the next, Hodak closed on
the laughing, cursing pack. They were close beyond
the next bend.
Feeling along the waistband of his tunic, Hodak
drew a thin, flat metal strip from the weave.
Holding the strip gingerly, he jerked their ends in
opposite directions and sensed the sharpness of
the blades that instantly snapped outward along
both edges. Twisting and turning formed a half-meter
long scimitar and bending it slightly along its
length added a curve comparable to the ancient
Australian boomerang. It was both silent and deadly.
Hodak eased closer to the bend in the tunnel, and
snaked his way along the ground until he had a view
of the scene ahead.
Ram lay in a heap against one wall, motionless.
His captors, facing the opposite wall, were busily
examining its surface. Words bounced back along
the wall.
"...as good a place as any, huh?"
"Yeah. Let's get this over with and head for the
Blind Pig. I'm thirsty as hell."
"OK, Patch and Swat, you two -- start burning
the hole. Cut it deep enough so all of him can be
shoved in. Leave enough room so we can seal it
over with the same dirt. Flume, you start collecting
rocks to pack around the body once we get it
in place. Then we'll just pack and fuse-seal until
it's all smoothed over. This guy'll be riding this
ice ball when hell freezes over."
"What're you gonna do, Angel?"
His tone was sarcastic. It brought a snarl in
return.
"Scarf put me in charge of this detail, Flume.
Remember? So when I tell you to haul rocks, don't
fight it." The heavy tone eased. "I was ordered to
search the guy. Scarf wants everything from his
pockets, and all his clothes, just in case he's got
something stashed away. I gotta deliver the stuff
as soon as we're done here. My orders are also to
mess up the body so it'll never be identified, even
if it does get found. So let's get with it."
As Hodak watched, Flume, the rock gatherer moved
off down the tunnel. Two of the remaining three
drew soil-fusers from a backpack and concentrated
on their power settings. The fourth, obviously
Angel, turned toward Ram who was beginning to stir.
Seeing Ram's movement, Angel drew his weapon,
hefted it, and aimed it at Ram's head. Angel's
mouth twisted into a savage grin.
His companions turned from their work to watch.
"Wait. I want him to see it coming," Angel said
over his shoulder.
Hodak pressed his fingernail against a pip on the
instrument in his hand and felt it vibrate with
energy. Thrusting his arm further into the tunnel's
bend he hurled the boomerang toward Angel.
The weapon reached its maximum velocity within two
meters of the throw. Moving at a speed that made
it invisible to the naked eye, it flew silently and
true.
The slender implement curved around Angel's neck
and, without stopping, completed its return to
Hodak's hand.
Angel's head was gone from his shoulders.
The sound of Angel's falling body startled the
two staring expectantly at Ram, waiting for the
execution shot. Turning, they gaped at what had
been Angel. They scrambled in panic to press
their backs against the tunnel wall. Dropping the
soil-fusers, they drew and waved their weapons
about.
One of them shouted, "Flume. Can you hear me,
Flume?"
"Yeah, I hear you. Whatta ya want?"
"Get back here, quick."
Flume came running, took in the scene and joined
the other two against the wall. Together, they
stared at Angel, then along the tunnel, one
direction then the other.
"What the hell's goin' on?"
"How do I know? We didn't hear anything, then the
noise of him falling. We looked and there he was
and there was his head. We had our eyes on the
big guy; couldn'a been him did it."
"What do we do now?"
"Search me."
"Let's get outta here."
"Can't. We gotta finish the job, or Scarf'll burn
us alive."
"Then we better stick together from now on,"
Flume said. "You two finish cutting the hole but
now make it deeper. I'll keep watch. Soon as
you're ready we'll load 'em in, seal it up with
stuff from around here, and scram."
As Hodak watched, Patch and Swat recovered
sufficiently to raise their soil-fusers and direct
the nozzles at the tunnel's wall.
An amber glow formed on the fuser's tips and the
tunnel wall's surface bubbled and flowed toward
the floor in the light gravity. Wielding the fusers
expertly they distributed its liquefied substance
in a rough, irregular pattern, blending it in with
the surrounding surfaces. The excess that reached
the floor quickly hardened to match the rubble
strewn about.
Flume, back against the opposite wall, weapon high
and ready, peered tensely about. Finally satisfied,
Patch switched off his fuser and tapped Swat on
the shoulder. Swat glanced at him, switched off,
and they stepped back.
"This'll do it," Patch said. "Load Angel in first.
The back of the hole is too small for the big guy."
He leaned over, grasped the open-eyed head by
a hank of hair and flung it into the hole. The head
disappeared with a soft thud. Swat joined Patch;
each grasped one of the body's arms and legs
and they heaved it in after the head. Patch leaned
into the hole and pushed the solid flesh as far as it
would go. Turning, he motioned Swat toward Ram.
For a moment Flume faced away from Hodak.
He did not see the boomerang before it twisted
around his throat and was gone.
Intent on Ram, Swat and Patch saw neither the
strike nor the weapon. They heard a gurgling sound
and whirled. Flume was on the tunnel floor, blood
pulsing from the neck of his headless torso. The
head, itself, had rolled against the opposite wall,
eyes open.
Panicked, they fired frantically down the tunnel
in both directions.
The boomerang back in his hand, Hodak waited. An
open assault was unacceptable, both for himself and
for Ram. He would be cut down with a single sweep
of the killers' heavy handguns, and with his identity
revealed, Scarf would track down the Sentinels with
a vengeance.
Snapping a quick peek he saw Patch and Swat back
to back in the middle of the tunnel, facing in opposite
directions and whispering to each other in terror.
Guessing the distance between the two he extended
the boomerang slightly and pressed the pip.
Stepping away from the wall Hodak threw the
boomerang around the bend.
One of the targets must have seen it coming.
There was the beginning of a scream.
Boomerang back in hand, Hodak walked around the
bend. Patch lay quietly; Swat's body still quivered.
Hodak took less than five minutes to enlarge the
hole, load the newly dead in with their companions,
and smooth the surface to match the tunnel's wall.
Ram, groggy, sat against the opposite wall and
watched.