Runners: Escape Prison World or Die (Empire of Time Series) by John Argo

Page 33.

"It's the only hope I can think of."

"We'll be next in the cooking pot. I like to be stirred slowly, with pipar and salx. How about you? A little red Tirkaryan piparika for a nice goulashmeter?"

"Suffer in your own misery, you hairy little macab pecker," Kion said thickly. He was about tired to death of this negawit with his constant drone of bleak humor.

As the skimmer rose over the hills, Kion suddenly yelled: "Stop!"

"All motors zero," Madatilda chimed.

"Look at that, will you?" Piri said in amazement.

There, walking on the beach several hundred heads below, was a human being.

"A woman," Piri said.

"Humanian," Kion seconded, "maybe even human."

"She doesn't appear to have heard us," Piri said.

"She's walking in a swirl of wind and surf down here. The skimmers are designed to be quiet, when need be, so they can stalk prey. What do we make of that?"

"Maybe she's a cannibal," Piri said with his acid tongue. "Or maybe she's a crew member from the Pitz Boat. Why don't we drop down and ask her?"

Kion shook his head. "If there is one, there will be others. Maybe it's our survivor colony?"

"What would they be doing on Manaul 5D? Living on desert macabs? Getting tans?" Kion was faintly puzzled, in passing. Piri's demeanor had gone from subversive to interested in a second.

"I don't know. Can't even guess. Maybe they come out here to blow up Swarm commo cells or fuel dumps or something." Kion thought: what if they found the lost Starways portal that the Swarmturds are so desperately looking for? "We don't want to lose sight of her. Madatilda."

"Yes, Kion?"

"Do you have a spotter dove?"

"I have one that is functional."

"Can we track this humanian female on the beach without her spotting your floating eye?"

"I will opimize stalking parameters with best stealth factors, and you may pray for a desired result."

Piri said: "Our desired result is to keep watch on her, see where she goes and who she sees, without being detected ourselves."

"That is a standard bounty hunter parameter. I will enact parms and release dove."

"I assume you will still set down in the desert for your air blow."

"Affirmative, Kion. We have no choice. We are critically low and could fall from the sky. The dove will fly of its own sunnish power."

"It's a plan," Kion said. "Do it."

The skimmer drifted north, over the ridges, and settled down in a sand bowl. Here it was protected from random detection or ambush. The air and solar collectors would also gather optimal raw materials for conversion inside Madatilda's tiny nuclear furnace inboard.

"Let's have some cafir and watch the show," Kion said.

"Maybe she'll undress and go for a swim," Piri said. His eyes oogled.

"We need her alive," Kion growled. What a massive eyeholian was this dimwitted slop ladler!

As he turned to the galley to make a fresh batch of cafir, the ship rattled and shook.

"Now what in Tandallel?" Piri squeaked, holding on to a passing metal counter.

"We are subject to an oceanic mating call," Madatilda said cheerily. "I have heard this before. It is menioned in the literature. My past humanians have stated they found it quite impressive and overwhelming as a sign of life and power."

"Mating?" Piri demanded in outrage. "Who?"

Kion said: "Is it the life forms you were panicking about a minute ago."

"No," Madatilda said. "The shallow waters for about ten kliks out are infested with giant crocosaurians who will kill and eat anything, including boats and skimmers. Deep in the sea are enormous whaleyans, mammaloid in nature, omnivores, who emit these songs when they are happy. Apparently mating makes them quite happy, as does escorting their young to eat crododilians."

"How big are these whaleyans?" Kion asked.

"My library tells me they range from half to nearly a klik in length, and in weight from ten thousand to sixty thousand tons. They are confined to the deep sea, where their bulk is equalized. They lure crocosaurians and other sea life to them by imitating their love songs."

"The crocosaurians have love songs?" Piri said at the apex of superciliousness, matched only by the arch of his eyebrows.

"It is the sound of their young hatching," Madatilda said. "The females guard them, while the males swarm to devour their own young. The females then kill the over-excited males, but not before mating with them to receive their genetic root cells to foster breeding the next generation of ovoviparous young."

"Argh," Piri said. "Infodump. Makes my head spin."

While he spoke, a silvery-white disk detached from underneath the skimmer and flew up toward the sea. It was a miniature skimmer, or dove, used to track prey over the horizon—usually escaped humans.

Madatilda explained: "I will activate viewing screens so you can follow the prey visually."

"She is not prey," Kion said, fearing that the merk bot had some inbuilt program to attack, wound, or kill its observation subjects. "Observe only. Do not disturb."

"I have disarmed the dove, on your command," Madatilda cooed calmly.

"Oh, your dove also carries weapons of murderous destruction," Piri cynicked.

"Just one miniature tube-dart carrying a million electrovoles of power to stun or kill as you desire," Madatilda said.

"We desire no kill, no disturb, nix," Piri said. "Observe and report. That's all."

"Program adjusted per your directions," Madatilda calmy replied.

"Madatilda," Kion said, "how long do you need to resample power to fly us 1,000 kliks?"

"With an allowance for wind resistance and other padding factors, one sunday."

"Very well. Tomorrow when the sol rises, cease gathering resources, make your power, and fly us east to Manaul 5J."

"Yes, Kion. That is doable."

Kion said: "Meanwhile, we hunker down and wait."

Piri added: "…And we get to while the time away by watching our native girl on the beach."

Thank you for reading. If you love it, tell your friends. Please post a favorable review at Amazon, Good Reads, and other online resources. If you want to thank the author, you may also buy a copy for the low price of a cup of coffee. It's called Read-a-Latte: similar (or lower) price as a latte at your favorite coffeeshop, but the book lasts forever while the beverage is quickly gone. Thank you (JTC).

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