"Seventh Son: Part 2" by Garon E. Whited

Aviras found that her new position entailed certain changes.  When she returned to her quarters, she discovered that her personal effects had been moved.  A brief inquiry found that she had been relocated; her new quarters were a suite of rooms quite close to Zack’s.  Her personal effects were already unpacked and available, as well as a considerable amount of extremely expensive additions.

She withdrew a bodystocking from the wardrobe.  It was identical in every way except the fitting to the ones worn by the ducal family.  Made from a form of biological, quasi-living plastic, it would eat and drink sweat, absorb energy from body heat and sunlight, adjust itself to keep a stable internal temperature, and act as a layer of armor.  If damaged, it would stretch and constrict to seal the hole.  If provided more nutrients, it would regrow to its original pattern and so mend itself.

With gloves and a helmet, it could even function as a space suit.  It was so thin that it was almost literally a second skin.  Even with the gloves on, she could pick up a piece of confetti or identify the side of a coin by touch.  Adding a wrist computer with the appropriate interface panel would enable the photosensitive surface to take on any image or pattern that could be downloaded into it; without that, it would simply sense and slowly try to match the optical set of whatever environment it was in.

It was one of the most advanced forms of concealed personal armor ever made.  And the cost of a fitted suit reflected that fact.

Aviras put the suit on the bed and examined the rest of her new equipment.  Everything was on the same scale.  The hideaway pistols were brand-new, top-of-the-line models—models not even in commercial production yet.  The clothes were stylish and varied for all occasions—and all made from or layered with protective substances, as well as having convenient places to put a variety of useful devices.  Even the jewelry—she had jewels!—had both visual impact and hidden uses.  The earring grenades, disguised as small clusters of rubies and gold, were both beautiful and deadly.

Much like Aviras, herself.

She closed the jewelry box and looked around the room.  To all appearances, this was the suite of a ducal daughter… or the concubine of a ducal son.  Her hands shook as she lifted the bodysuit and sat down on the bed.  It was an abundance of riches, an overwhelming amount of sheer wealth.  Whatever happened to her own small room and comfortable bed?  The thing she sat on was a combination of support gel and variable gravity fields.  All of this was perfectly understandable for the person being guarded, but for one of his guards?  It was too much.  Far, far too much.

Heavens!  What was she being paid, now?  She had no idea, but suspected it had changed—upward.

Bob stood in the doorway and knocked on the jamb.  Aviras jerked around to stare at him, startled and slightly frightened.  Yesterday, she’d been a bodyguard on special assignment.  She knew her assignment, she knew her job, she knew the rules.  Today, she was a personal killer for a ducal son and a double agent between him and his family… Now she wasn’t sure what the rules were.  Or if there were.

“Everything okay?” Bob asked.  Aviras just shook her head mutely.  Bob stepped inside and toed the seat out from under the makeup table.  He lowered himself onto it and rested his hands on his knees.

“All right.  Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll let the maids know about it.  I hope it isn’t the armor or weaponry; I picked most of it out myself.”

She shivered.  “It’s not the… the stuff is all… I’ve never seen so much…”

“The Duke likes his sons to be alive after a party,” Bob offered.  “Since you’ll be clinging to Zack—like a Vetaxian leech, remember?—His Grace insists on the best, both in your attire and accessories.  You have to look the part and still be able to throw down.”

“But this alone,” she said, holding up the bodysuit.  “Do you have any idea how much this all must cost?”

“I saw the invoice.  Don’t worry about it.  Hell,” he added, “if you want anything else, say so; you’re the woman on the spot.  If you’ve got an idea for something or even several somethings, I’ll listen with both ears.  I haven’t shot half the budget for this.”

She put the bodysuit down slowly.  “Excuse me?”

“I was told, and I quote, ‘Robert, I have other things to concern me.  I have trusted you with the life of my son for twenty years.  Why would I not trust you with money?  Spend anything you feel needful.’  With endorsement like that, I can spend money faster than a two-timing wife.”

Aviras paled.  “You spoke with the Duke?”

“Yep,” Bob answered, smiling.  “Seems I got a glowing recommendation for the idea of reassigning you.  Of course, if you quit or let him get killed, I’ll take all the blame, too.  But His Grace wanted my personal report.  I think he’s satisfied with your performance.”  Bob kept his face carefully schooled to mild amusement.  It had been nerve-wracking to report on the commentary in the fighter cockpit and on the activities in the car.  Zack was the youngest son, after all, and had the benefits of a comprehensive education… but not much practical experience.

At most things, Bob silently amended.  There had been a few youthful indiscretions, but sometimes a security job included cleaning up afterward—and paying people off.

Fortunately, the Duke seemed to take the reports with aplomb.  It was probably the numerous prior children that steeled him for this sort of thing.

“I’ll do my best to keep him satisfied,” Aviras answered.  Bob blinked and brought his thoughts back to the present.

“Yes, I hope so.  Now, do you have anything else you need?”

“Not that I can think of right now.  All this, for me, is… is…”

“Overwhelming?”

She nodded.  “Exactly.”

“No problem.  Take a while, sort yourself out.  We have a double shift of guards on him until you’re ready.”  Bob grinned evilly.  “He hates it.  They’ll mostly fade when you come back.  He’ll be glad to see you.”

“I hope so,” she answered, running the thin bodysuit through her hand.  As she said it, Bob wondered how she meant it—and so did she.

*   *   *

Zack was quite pleased to see her.  He rose from the patio table when she came out to join him and his guest rose with him.

“Zack, you didn’t tell me,” said the guest.  He smiled charmingly and circled the table, hand extended.  “I am Marcus Hamilton, dear lady, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.

Aviras allowed her hand to be taken and kissed as she watched Marcus.

“I am Aviras Parmentalium.  You are a friend of his grace?”

“I am.  And your friend soon, I hope.”

Zack laughed and moved to hold Aviras’ chair.  “Do join us.  Pay no mind to Marcus; he’s an unrepentant rogue.”

Marcus looked offended.  “I object to such a label.  I am quite repentant over many things.”

Zack seated Aviras and then himself.  “But not about being a rogue.”

“Well, true,” Marcus admitted, joining them.  “May I ask how long you two have been together?”

“I was assigned to his grace only a few days ago,” Aviras supplied.  Marcus’ eyebrows rose.  “As his bodyguard,” she added.

“Oho!  I had hoped that His Grace the Duke had become a bit more cosmopolitan in his views and was hiring beautiful women to keep his sons occupied.”

Aviras glanced at the other security personnel in sight—very few of them.

“Your grace, may I break his hand?” she inquired.

Zack looked thoughtful.  “That was a rather impolite remark, Marcus.”

Marcus continued to grin.  “Perhaps it was, but it was truthful; I did think that for a moment.  I know now that it is not the case.  Still, it was an ungentlemanly thought and perhaps I should have kept it to myself.  So, to keep the lady from exerting herself in an attempt to break my hand, I tender my heartfelt apologies and humbly beg her forgiveness.”

“More groveling, please,” Aviras replied.

Marcus laughed aloud, throwing his head back and leaning back in the chair.  “My, but you’re a frosty one!  No, I’ll offer no more well-oiled apologies for my remark.  But I will compliment you on your ability to carry a good bluff.”

Zack sighed.  “Marcus, apologize to the lady and at least pretend you mean it.”

“What?  Why, Zack!  I already apologized for my ill-considered words.  Surely you wouldn’t have me go down on one knee and beg her for her forgiveness!”

Aviras smiled.  “I would like that very much, thank you.”

Marcus’ smile diminished markedly.  “God help the man who ever offends you deeply.”

“I hope so; those men have since met God.  You’re next if you don’t start taking me seriously.”

“Aviras,” Zack said, tone cautioning.

“Yes, your grace,” she answered, meekly. 

“Marcus,” Zack went on, “you haven’t met Aviras for longer than twenty seconds and you assume that she’s a bit of ornamental fluff.  I assure you, she is very ornamental, but also very practical.  I try to be your friend—impossible as you can be, at times—so we will let this go with a friendly warning:  Do not take her lightly.  I will expect you to show her respect and courtesy.  If you take any future liberties with her goodwill, you will answer to her for it—and then to me, if she leaves you alive.  Is that clear?”

Marcus’ smile was completely gone; his face looked strange without it.  “I understand what you want, but you know that I am a shameless flirt and a tease.  If she is truly dangerous, is it safe for me to even speak in her presence?”

Aviras leaned forward and reached across the patio table to pat Marcus’ hand.  “I won’t kill you,” she assured him.

Marcus slowly drew his hand back, eyeing Aviras as though she had just sprouted extra heads.

“I’ll take your word for it.  May I request a polite caution from you if you find I am difficult to bear?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Zack chuckled.  “I am glad you are taking her seriously.  Now, what were you saying about your grandfather’s fleet?”

“Oh, that,” Marcus said, grateful for the change of subject.  “Grandfather is unhappy about the additional shipping tariffs; they’re scheduled on the tonnage of the vessel, not on the cargo tonnage carried.  So a ship traveling empty still costs money in port duties.  It’s shooting down his charter business something awful.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  How long has this been going on?”

“Almost a month.  He’s petitioned the House for reconsideration, but he keeps being told that taxes are applied to cargo, not the ship.  The tariff is a transport surcharge not keyed to any particular cargo.”

“Its rate is based on the ship size?”

Marcus nodded.  “It’s hideously expensive for the major freighters.  Suddenly, operating a starship has jumped from nearly zero to five figures a year—six, for the largest vessels.”

“That’s terrible.  I take it that prices on shipped goods have risen significantly?”

“Well… no.  Not so much,” Marcus admitted.  “Divided on a per-unit basis, the tariff is low enough that it doesn’t increase prices more than a percent or so at most.”

“Then it’s just chartering a vessel that’s become expensive?”

“Exactly.”

Zack tsked.  “Convey to your grandfather my sympathies.”

Marcus lifted his drink from the table and sipped at it, then rolled the glass between his palms.  “Ah.  Yes, of course I will.”

Aviras regarded Marcus intently.  Zack just smiled.

“Is there something else you wanted, Marcus?” Zack asked.

“He wants you to stop the tariff, your grace,” Aviras interjected.  “Or he wants you to persuade the Duke to do so.”

Marcus flushed hotly.  “I wouldn’t have put it quite that way.”

“Aviras,” Zack cautioned.  “Now who is being impolite?”

She lowered her gaze.  “Yes, sir.  I’m sorry.”

“She is correct, though, is she not?” Zack asked Marcus.

“Well… yes.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus.  I wish I could help, but Father does precisely as he pleases.  Would it help you if I discovered why he chose to approve such a tariff?”

“Not really.  The reason why he has imposed it—or allowed it to be imposed—is not an issue; whatever it is, I doubt Grandfather could influence it significantly.  It is the tariff itself that we must somehow overcome.”

“That is all I can offer you, I’m afraid.”

He sighed and set his glass down on the table again.  “I had to ask.  Thank you for your time.”

Zack rose when Marcus did.  “Of course.  Your visits are always a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine.”  To Aviras he said, “And the pleasure of meeting you has made the occasion memorable.”

“You flatter me.”

“Indeed not.  I will remember you most vividly.”  Marcus smiled again.  “Zack, will you be joining me on Gresham?  I sent you an invitation.”

“The safari?”

“Yes.  Regardless of the outcome of this pesky tariff difficulty, I intend to have a good time tromping in the bush.  Say you’ll come.”

“I’ll do my best.  But you know Father…” Zack shrugged.  “If there is something he considers more important, my opinion will not be sought.”

Marcus nodded and extended his hand.  Zack gripped it.  Aviras watched them keenly.

“Then let us hope that the fate of the Galaxy does not hang in the balance before you arrive.  By your leave, your grace?”

Zack nodded and Marcus sauntered away.  Zack sat down again and glanced at Aviras.

“Did I detect a certain tension, Aviras?”

“Yes, your grace.”

Zack pursed his lips, thinking.  I told her to address me as “Zack” when we are private.  I addressed her by name.  Either she has forgotten my injunction, or she believes we are not private.

“I take it that you do not approve of my custom of shaking hands?” he asked, rubbing one ear.

“It is needlessly dangerous, your grace,” she replied, and covered her mouth as though yawning.

Well, that settles that.  She’s got discretion as well as brains.  As much as I hate to admit it, Father can pick good people.  I’m just glad she seems to be mine.  Maybe, with her inside help, I can pull this off...

“I see.  Well, what do you think of the idea of going on a safari on Gresham?  I understand that the beasts are extremely large, and several species are carnivorous.”

“I think it is not advisable, your grace.”

“Good.”  Zack rested his arm on the tabletop.  “Diogenes.”

The bracelet shimmered and the miniature hologram of an old man appeared, hovering over Zack’s wrist.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Note the invitation for a safari on Gresham.  Respond affirmatively and schedule preparation and transport—a luxury liner, please; I’m of a mind for a slow cruise.  Get me a synopsis of the probable game animals and some instructional holos of where to shoot them.  Include other hazards of the planet.  Prepare a tactical simulation for this evening.”

“Immediately, Sir.  Will there be anything else?”

“That should do it.”

“As you say, Sir.”  The floating hologram dissolved down into the bracelet again.

Zack glanced at Aviras; she was frowning every so slightly.

“You disapprove?”

She shrugged.  “I can’t tell you no, your grace.  I just hope I get to come along on the tactical sim.”

“You like shooting holographic simulations of game animals?” Zack asked, surprised.

“Not at all, your grace.  You can’t smell the blood in a simulator.”

“Then why?”

“I’d like to know what we’re up against, your grace.  Besides, I’ve never seen you shoot.”

*   *   *

The tactical tank was a circular room nearly a hundred meters in diameter.  The ceiling was at least ten meters from the floor.  The walls, floor, and ceiling were all a uniform, shadowless white.

Zack and Aviras entered the room wearing clothes for a hot, humid hunt in the jungle.  Protective boots that reached nearly to the knees gave way to heavy, rip-stop cloth pants and shirt.  Forearm guards ran along the outer edge of the shirtsleeves, useful for blocking whipping branches.  Hats that were nearly helmets, wide-brimmed to keep the sun off faces and necks, adorned their heads.  They carried three obvious weapons.  One was rifle-sized, suitable for hunting big game.  The other was a shoulder-holstered pistol, for dealing out finishing shots and eliminating small animal nuisances.  The third weapon was really more of a tool; it was a knife, sheathed at the right hip, designed for a variety of survival needs.

At least, that was Zack’s outfit.  Simulation or no, Aviras was packing more ordnance.

They walked to the center of the room, guided by a glowing dot of ruby light.

“Ready?” Zack asked.  Aviras nodded.  “Begin program,” he ordered.

The room dissolved into lush, green jungle.  The temperature skyrocketed to a blazing thirty-six under the too-white sun.  The humidity climbed rapidly.  Mist sprang up, obscuring vision beyond a few yards, while the thick undergrowth made the jungle into a maze.  Sounds of life came from everywhere—wind in the leaves, creatures skittering, things calling to one another.

“Lifelike,” Aviras noted.

“Very,” Zack replied, drawing out a handkerchief.  He dabbed at his neck with it.  “I didn’t realize that Gresham was such a hot world.”

“Bring sunblock, your grace.”

“Diogenes will make a note of it.”

They looked around, keeping close together, rifles held ready.  Quietly, they stalked through openings in the underbrush, looking for prey.

Blast, Zack thought.  I’d like to be able to talk to Aviras, but voices might spook game.  I’m not used to having a partner.  I’ll have to look into getting communicators.

Zack focused his attention on the wrist computer.  Diogenes!  Zack’s wrist tingled for a moment. 

Yes, Sir?

What sort of communications units can we get implanted?  I want something for myself and for Aviras, preferably something difficult to detect or tap.  I also want something we can have wired into the nervous system; I do not want to have to actually speak to use it.  This is to be a covert communications system with my primary bodyguard.

There’s an art to getting anything past a bureaucracy.  Zack had years of practice in how to phrase requests.  Diogenes accessed the House datanet and queried it for several seconds.

If Sir wishes to have such equipment ready for use before the safari on Gresham, I suggest a neutrino emissions unit.  The communication beam is tight and extremely difficult to detect without specialized equipment.  The drawback is that the receiving unit’s location must be known within two meters or so.  If I am permitted to coordinate the units, this will not be a hindrance as long as there is either line of sight or some other method of locating Aviras.

She won’t be able to call me, though, Zack asked, without a coordinating computer of her own?

That is unfortunately correct, Sir.

How about we add a radio-frequency implant communicator as well?—one with all the security options; encryption, frequency shifting, the works.  That way, we can find each other and use that signal to focus the secure neutrino streams.

That should work very well, Sir.

Good.  Arrange it as soon as possible, please.

As you say, Sir.

Zack grinned to himself and kept his eyes open for something to shoot.  He wandered in the jungle with Aviras for some time while they looked for targets.  The only things they found were smaller game, no larger than moderate birds.  At last, soaked with sweat, they stopped by a large boulder and settled in the shade.  As they did so, Zack settled quite close, hip to hip, and put his arm around Aviras.  One hand brushed over the top of her blousy garment, over a breast pocket.  Aviras leaned into his embrace despite the heat and patted his hand affectionately.

“Okay, I’m at a loss,” Zack admitted, his speech losing some of its formality in the heat.  “The computer is supposed to provide us with at least a dozen targets, just so we can get familiar with them.  I know I didn’t ask for a stalking program.”

Aviras took out a water bottle, drank half of it, offered the other half to Zack.  He accepted it and drank while she spoke.

“What precisely are we hunting, your grace?  I don’t know much about Gresham.”

Zack marshaled his thoughts.  “The herbivores are generally octopeds, with an overall adult length of twenty to thirty meters.”

“Meters?” she asked, aghast.  She moved from the curve of his arm to turn and stare at him.  “Are you joking?”

“Meters,” he agreed.  “I had a hard time believing it, myself.  Apparently, they keep growing all their lives.  Coloration isn’t too varied; they’re all sort of a brownish-grey.  The carnivores are harder to spot; they change color to blend in with their surroundings.  They are normally bipedal, with forelimbs having claws.  There are several different species of carnivores—the smaller ones are about two meters tall; the largest ones can get up to twenty meters and weigh several thousand kilos.”

Aviras looked at the energy rifle in her hands.

“Are you sure you want to hunt these things without artillery, your grace?”

Zack chuckled.  “You’re carrying a simulated Raytheon eight-oh-one pulse laser.  The replica will just give a good light show.  The real version will burn through six-inch armor plate in less than a minute by vaporizing the metal in the beam path.  Hit a living target with it and the liquid in the beam path will vaporize so quickly that it will seem to explode.”  He smiled as Aviras began to look interested.  “You can blow a man’s arm off in a single burst—or turn his head into a cloud of bloody mist.  Hold it on one spot and it will drill through any creature in the known universe.  Penetration and knockdown, all in one neat package.”

Aviras looked at the weapon again, this time with more respect.  “Really?  I think I like it.  Will the tank show the effects if I shoot something?”

“It will.  It’s designed for accurate simulations.”

“Even if it isn’t one of the prey animals?”

“Pick a tree.  You can even carve through our shady boulder here, if you like.”

She aimed at one of the giant trees and fired.  Part of the trunk exploded in sight-and-sound indistinguishable from the real thing.  Flaming sawdust showered from the point of aim.  The beam seemed solid; the pulse cycle was too rapid for the human eye to distinguish individual shots.  She panned the beam from one side of the trunk to the other; the vaporizing water blew wood fibers out of a channel nearly a foot wide.  The trunk made gunshot-loud cracking sounds and the whole upper section shifted slowly.

“I think we better move,” Zack commented, rising, just as the tree started to lean toward them.  He handed Aviras up and hurried aside.

“It can’t really hurt us, can it?” Aviras asked as she followed him out of the way.

“No.  It’s only a hologram.  You could walk right through it if you wanted.  The tractor fields can’t simulate a solid surface—but they do fine as thick underbrush,” Zack answered, and then was silent as the tree toppled grandly down, branches rustling, wood cracking and splitting thunderously as it came crashing to a halt against the boulder.

The boulder snorted and unfolded its legs to stand up.  Both Zack and Aviras danced back even further, guns rising to bear on it.  The boulder resolved itself into a huge, eight-legged beast, twenty meters long and at least eight high.  Its head swung around to face the tree, beaked mouth coming open to snap at it.

It sheared through the tree trunk in a single bite.  It tossed its mammoth head like a bird and snapped again at the piece it had bitten free; it sounded like a giant axe splitting a whole tree in twain.

The creature, now satisfied that the impact was not an attack, waddled ponderously from beneath the remains of the fallen forest giant.  It found a new spot and settled comfortably down, curling in on itself to siesta through the heat of the afternoon.

Zack and Aviras looked at each other for a moment.

“Think that’s enough for today?” Zack asked.

“Yes.  Yes indeed, your grace.”

“Computer, end simulation.”

The jungle dissolved into a cool, comfortable room of featureless white.  The door opened, showing them the way out.

*   *   *

Starships ply the Galaxy at speeds no sane mind can truly comprehend.  To travel at even the speed of light is impossible to understand; how much more maddening must it be to try and grasp travel at speeds nearly eight thousand times faster?  Yet this insane velocity is as nothing compared to the mind-breaking reality of hyperspace.  To travel outside the universe is a thing that has driven men to raving lunacy and shrieking death; therefore, all viewing ports are closed and locked on any starship before the jump to hyperspace.

Aviras was with Zack, sitting in the nearly-abandoned observation lounge on deck nine.  Aside from one bartender, sitting at his station and reading, they had the place to themselves.  Zack stretched his long legs out.  Aviras was sitting on the couch, her shoes on the floor, her feet on Zack’s lap.

With House security outside the lounge at each of the doors and the bartender in her line of sight, she felt Zack was reasonably safe.  And, since the ship was a luxury liner instead of a private transport belonging to the Duke, reasonably free from eavesdropping.

“I got your message, Zack.  I took care of everything I could.”  Her voice was pitched low, barely carrying to his ears.

“Any trouble reading it?” he asked, just as quietly.

“It was hard to find that datafleck in my shirt pocket.  The things are small.”

“Had to be.  We don’t get a lot of privacy.”

“True enough.  I dealt with most of it—everything that I could.  The equipment is ready, anyway.  I didn’t get the transit papers you wanted.  I’m sorry.”

Zack nodded.  “I made some financial arrangements.  Did you get the extra jewelry, by the way?”

“I did.  They’re lovely—and lavish.”

“Portable wealth,” Zack corrected.  “Pick an item you want to keep; we’ll buy things we need with the rest.”

Aviras contorted, bonelessly and gracefully, to wind up reversed on the couch; she looked up at him from his lap and smiled.  “Have you been planning this escape for long?”

“Yes.  But there was no way to do it without help.  Then you came along.  And then Marcus invited us to safari.  I seized the opportunity.”

“A man that thinks on his feet.  I like that.”

Zack chuckled and took her hand in his.  His thumb and forefinger found the nerve in the meaty part of her hand, near the base of the thumb.  Aviras’ eyes widened as he applied pressure.  Then she closed her eyes and shivered, lips parting slightly in a breathy, almost inaudible sigh.

“Thank you,” Zack told her.  “I’m glad you’re helping me.  I could never manage this on my own.”

Aviras licked her lips, squirming on the couch as he continued with his nerve hold.  She sighed again, a trifle louder, and replied, “You’d… you’d manage… somehow….  And I don’t… don’t want you to go off without me!”

Zack let off the pressure and rubbed her hand between both of his.  Aviras seemed both pleased and disappointed.

“I do have good news for you,” Zack offered.

“I’m coming with you?”

“Silly.  Of course you are.  I hate to think that my father finally managed to throw a lady into my path that I actually want… but I’m afraid I have to admit it.  I’m keeping you for as long as you’ll stay.  But that isn’t what I was going to say.”

“I’m listening.”

“After we shake the bodyguards and find a reasonably private place…” he began, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.  Aviras’ breath caught and her eyes widened.  When she spoke again, she was breathless.

“How long until we reach Gresham?”

*   *   *

Bob hated the idea of a safari, of course.  A ducal heir on a backwater planet, surrounded by a few dozen strangers with guns, hunting creatures that could kill a man by accident—to say nothing of the actual predators.

Security is a job for a man immune to ulcers.

Of course, this didn’t stop Zack; if anything, it enhanced his desire to go.  And where the principal goes, there go the bodyguards.  At least Zack was reasonable about having them along.  With Aviras sticking to him, Bob didn’t worry too much about anything that might happen on the trip over or back.  It was the actual hunt that had him worried.

Marcus was also quite understanding.  He opened up everything for inspections and permitted the House security personnel to come and go as they pleased.  It made Bob’s job that much easier.

Marcus’ hunting lodge was less of a lodge more of an interstellar mobile home.  It was a starship in its own right, but also included all the amenities for the upper crust—thick carpets, fine paintings, spacious rooms, and many viewports.  The lodge included landing gear in the event that an actual set-down was desirable, but the landing jets tended to frighten away game by obliterating anything within a thousand meters of touchdown.  Instead, the hunting parties would travel back and forth in special transports, small ships designed for both planetary shuttle duty and limited hyperspace jumps.

Once on the planet, all three transports were parked on the flat-blasted area of the local spaceport facilities; Gresham wasn’t prosperous enough to rate a first-class port.  But the locals were quite used to tourists with a desire to shoot things, and Marcus’ staff had made arrangements to be met at the port by guides and porters and beasts.

Marcus and his guests mounted some of the native animals—the locals called the creatures gelha; the beasts resembled brownish hills with legs.  A four-seat box—an oversized howdah—was strapped to the thing’s back.  A driver sat further forward and much lower, between the creature’s wide-set eyes; it did not appear to have a head or mouth.

Zack climbed into the box strapped to the beast’s back and settled into one of the seats; he found that they were designed to rotate for the convenience of the gunners.  Aviras sat behind him, eyes flicking over everything around them.

“Nervous?” he asked, quietly.  His amused expression never wavered.

“Bob worries because it’s his job,” Aviras replied, also quietly.  “That’s not my main reason, Zack.”

Zack noted the use of his name.  He smiled a trifle more, obviously pleased.

“Fair enough.”

Marcus climbed the ladder and joined them, along with another man.  He was shorter than Marcus and thinner, but with a whipcord toughness about him.  His eyes were grey and very clear.  The newcomer was dressed much as the other three, but his outfit was obviously for working, no longer new.

“Ah, eager to get right to it, eh?” Marcus asked.  “I see you are appropriately attired and equipped.”  All four of them were wearing clothes for trooping through the bush, complete with wide-brimmed hats.  The guns varied in style and type.  Zack and Aviras favored energy weapons.  Marcus carried a heavy coilgun; his companion had what appeared to be a small electrothermal cannon.

“If you don’t plan ahead, you’re falling behind,” Zack answered.  “I don’t believe I’ve met your companion.”

“Your grace, may I present Rex Aldus, a professional hunter and guide of safaris on Gresham.”  Rex bowed as Marcus introduced him.  Zack nodded in return.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Rex.  May I call you ‘Rex’?”

“Of course, your grace.  I am honored.”  Rex spoke Basic with a strong accent, but his words were clear.

“Excellent.  This is Aviras Parmentalium, my close associate.”

“Charmed, my lady.”

“A pleasure, sir.”

Introductions made, the two men took their seats, Marcus next to Zack and Rex beside Aviras.  At a word from Rex, the driver got them underway.  The beast’s multiple legs made it unexpectedly quick and the ride surprisingly smooth.  Several more beasts followed.  Only the first three carried hunters; the rest brought staff and support personnel—some of which, Zack was sure, were bodyguards in disguise.

“It should be a while before we get far enough from the port to see anything worth shooting,” Rex offered.  “We’ll set up a camp first, then see what sort of game we can scare up.  Since you gentleman are up front, you’ll have first shot at anything we do encounter on the way.  I’ll be backing you, so do not worry.”

“Are the local animals likely to attack us when we’re in a group like this?” Aviras asked.

“Sometimes,” the guide admitted.  “Some people think that the sound of drives damages them and makes them angry.  Others say it is the alien scent of offworlders that drives them to frenzy.  People say many things.”  The guide smiled slightly.  “I say I do not know.”

“So, we’re hoping to find some maddened beast that will leap out of the jungle and attack us?” Marcus asked.  He shifted his rifle-like weapon into a more comfortable ready position.

“Essentially, yes.  But it is not likely, not on this stage of our journey.”

“Glad to hear it,” Marcus answered, but his tone showed disappointment.

The three conversed with the guide for over an hour, discussing the types of game and the strategies for flushing it into the open.  Zack was impressed with the man’s experience and paid close attention to his advice; Marcus seemed more interested in the possibility of a sudden predator.  Aviras participated in the discussion, but her eyes were never on anyone in the box; she kept them directed outward, to scan the surroundings.

Rex called a halt on high ground and directed the staff in setting up inflatable structures and a sensor perimeter.  In the center of the nascent camp, a metallic gridwork expanded into a tower.  While Marcus and Zack went off to one side to debate the relative merits of types of firearms, Aviras asked Rex about the tower.

“Elevation for the microwave gun,” the guide responded.  “Not at all sporting.  Tends to flash-cook the target completely through, but it does save time when getting lunch ready.  Besides, we have to have it for camp defense.  A herd of druth can turn a camp into bloody mud without noticing.  We can’t have that.”

“No, indeed,” Aviras agreed.  “What shall we do while camp is being set up?”

“Most of my clients just get into their quarters and dial in the coolant units.  Gresham’s a warm world.”

Aviras smiled.  “I noticed.  And if your clients are eager to get something in their sights?”

Rex involuntarily glanced toward Marcus and Zack before answering.  “Well, then I usually get a satellite plot and head for a herd of druth.  They’re big enough that most people don’t care whether they are carnivorous or not.”  In a quieter voice, he asked, “You’re a… ‘close associate’ of his grace?”

Aviras’ smile never changed.  “I am.”

“Can you tell me what he wants from this hunt?  I’m not trying to pry, you understand; I’m trying to figure out what will seem like a good hunt to him.  It’s my job to make this enjoyable.  Does he want big trophies?  Lots of them?  Predators?  Or just to shoot things?”

“I think,” Aviras replied, slowly, “that he would be happy without ever firing a shot.  He enjoys… new experiences.  He’s on safari and can say that he’s done it, now.  I’d show him everything there is to show about a safari; that will make him happiest.”

Rex nodded.  “Thank you.  I’ll do what I can to make things interesting.”

“Not too interesting, I hope.  I plan to get years of wear out of him.”

He chuckled.  “I have no intention of getting him killed.  It’s bad for business.”  Rex walked off to supervise more of the camp details.

Aviras, lost in thought, watched him go.  There had been something not quite right about the way Rex had spoken—an oddity of accent, perhaps, but the stress and pacing of his words bothered her.

Troubled, she went to find Zack.