The Engineer ReConditioned Part 12

"They all lived for as long as the snairl. Though they could feed on other things after its death they would not long survive it. The chemistry is too complex. They are one being, like ourselves."

"Is all this what you came to learn?"

"No."

"What then?"

"The sh.e.l.l does not decay. The body below will drop soon and the sh.e.l.l will need to be counterweighted. We came for the salvage. Here we can be safe."

Janer, his shoulder against the crystal wall of the spire, could see them. The cloud was vast and grey, and moved with purpose. He could feel the presence of many minds - a million hives. The hornets were coming to their new home.

ABOUT "SPATTERJAY"

Spatterjay is the planet where all the action takes place in The Skinner, and all the characters and events here will be familiar to readers of that book This story is in fact a precursor, whereas from Snairls I only s.n.a.t.c.hed Janer and his hornets. Again it was a story published in Grotesque (issue 8 '95) and suitably so, though not enough so to justify changing the t.i.tle to 'Splatterjay'. It is a story whose genesis was in a nightmare of long blue and bony hands reaching out of dense jungle to grab someone, and of trout in a stream, which weren't. It spent a number of years in a folder, in the form of a few scribbled lines, then grew out of some free-a.s.sociation writing I was doing to limber up my brain one day. Acorns and all that.

SPATTERJAY.

Sweating green blood, a lung bird wheezed from the tree tops, its flaccid wings groping for the clouds. Ambel tucked his trumpet-mouthed blunderbuss under his arm and despondently watched its limping progress.

"Suitable protein," suggested Jane.

"There isn't any. Would you eat that?" asked Peck.

"Depends on how hungry I got."

"I guess we could make a stew."

Ambel made no comment on this, but he closed up his blunderbuss and aimed. The weapon flashed and banged, sparkles of still-burning powder gouting through the air. A cloud of acrid smoke obscured view for a moment, then they saw the bird falling into the trees, bits breaking away from its ill-made body.

"Let's go," said Peck.

They trotted through the knee-high putrephallus weeds, their masks pulled up over their mouths and noses. The pear-trunk trees s.h.i.+vered as they pa.s.sed. By the time they reached the area where the bird had fallen it was gone. They caught a glimpse of something huge and glistening dragging the squawking and flapping mess into the deep dingle.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d," said Peck, turning to Ambel. Ambel shook his head as he squatted down and thumped another paper cartridge down into the barrel of his buss.

Jane lifted her mask, winced at the smell wafting off the weeds then said, "Leech. A big one. Best leave it alone."

"Can you eat leeches?" asked Peck. He always got a bit weird when he hadn't had enough to eat.

Ambel shook his head.

"Too acid," he said. "Makes you fart like a wind machine and burns your ring when you c.r.a.p. Know a guy died of it once. Terminal wind. Blew his a.r.s.ehole across the room."

Peck snorted disbelievingly. "Well, we gotta get something to take back." He looked towards the dingle.

"Not there," said Jane. "We'll go back to the beach and circle around. Might get a rhinoworm coming in."

The three moved back through the weeds onto the green sand of the beach. Ambel gazed out at the s.h.i.+p and noticed that the masts were still bare. They needed a sail something bad. They needed food, yes, but whatever they got from the island would only keep them going for a little while, as they were. They had to get back to port and get some real Earth-food inside them; some dome-grown grain and meat.

"They say there are people out here who survive on wild food. They say the Skinner lives out here on one of the islands," said Jane.

"You gotta be kidding, all alive, and Hoop?" said Peck.

Ambel nodded morosely to himself. "They all survive, but they ain't people no more, Hoop included."

That killed the conversation until they reached the first stream winding out from the deep dingle. Ambel looked into the water and thinking about the dome he thought; salmon, then, seeing how they were grouped he thought; eels. But of course some of them broke from the water, their glistening ribbed backs rolling in the glitter, round thread-cutting mouths probing the air.

"Leeches again," said Peck. "There anything edible on this island?"

"Yes," said Jane avidly as she pointed out to sea.

The rhinoworm was as long as a man and its sinuous body as thick. It was aptly named. It had the head of a rhino, little different from those pictured in the old zoology books, and it had the body of a thick eel. It was pink and red-speckled. They watched it approach the mouth of the stream and rear its head out of the water with a leech writhing and flicking in its narrow mouth. Ambel's blunderbuss boomed, part of its head disappeared, and it sank back down into the water, clouding it blue.

"Quick! Quick!" shouted Jane, leaping up and down. Peck waded out, hooked his grapple into its flesh and waded back in, trailing the line out behind him. He was nearly ash.o.r.e when he yelled and splashed in very quickly.

"Gerrit off! Gerrit off!"

A four-foot long leech had attached itself to his hip. He fell in the sand and grabbed hold of the horrible thing in both hands to try and prevent it boring in even further. Jane grabbed up the line and began hauling in the rhinoworm while Ambel tended to Peck. He did the only thing that was possible in the circ.u.mstances; he grabbed hold of the leech in both hands, put his foot against Peck's leg, and hauled with all his might. Peck let out a scream as the leech pulled away with a fist-sized plug of his flesh in its circular mouth. Ambel bashed the creature against a rock until the lump came free, then after trampling the creature to slurry he handed the piece of flesh back to Peck. Peck screwed it back into his leg, then wrapped a bandage from his pack around it to hold it in place.

"Help me with this," said Jane. She had got the rhino-worm to the edge of the water, but could not haul it up onto the sand by herself. A ma.s.s of leeches was building up around it, each of them after its plug of flesh. Ambel rushed over and helped her haul it in, then the both of them stomped as many of the creatures as they could. As they stomped the last of them Peck was able to join them and relished splattering the last few.

"Right, let's chop it and head back to the s.h.i.+p," said Ambel. They proceeded to slice the rhinoworm into huge lumps, which they packed into their waterproof packs, and staggering under their loads, headed back up the beach. Before they set out Peck was able to take his bandage off. The plug of flesh had healed back into place and his muscle was working again. When they reached the rowing boat and were dumping the packs into it Jane grinned at Peck.

"The Earther'll want to see your leg. Probably want blood samples and a few pots of p.i.s.s outta you as well," she said.

"b.o.l.l.o.c.ks," said Peck, and gave the boat a shove. "Don't know what she's all worked up about. We ain't that different."

Ambel, who was, so the Earther had said, built like a tank, rowed the boat, being careful not to put too much pressure on the oars and go snapping them again. Jane, as skinny and small as a starveling child, had undone her s.h.i.+rt to her waist and sat plaiting her hair and looking at Ambel meaningfully. She was always h.o.r.n.y after a meat hunt, and when all her attempts to get Ambel into her bunk failed, as they always did, she turned to the next available crewman. During the next few hours the crewmen would be falling over each other as they tried to stay close to her. Peck had opened one of the packs and was cutting slices of rhino-worm meat to stuff into his mouth. He had injury hunger; another phenomenon the Earther woman was eager to study. Shortly they arrived at the wooden cliff of the side of the s.h.i.+p and the meat was hauled aboard. The three followed, after pa.s.sing up the oars, then Ambel hauled the rowing boat up the side and held it in place while others strapped it just below the gunnels. The Earther woman came out of her cabin to watch this and when it was done she returned shaking her head in amazement.

"How long before you were mobile again?" asked Erlin as she inspected the circular scar. They all had these scars, every member of the crew; white and neat circular scars on their bluish skin.

"Eh?" said Peck, brilliantly.

"How long after this injury were you able to stand again, to walk again?"

"Couple of minutes after I screwed the plug back."

"Let me get this right. Ambel thumped the leech against a rock until it released the piece of your leg it had excised. You then took that piece of flesh and screwed it back into your leg."

"Yeah, so what?"

"Doesn't that strike you as a little odd?"

"Who you callin' odd? At least I ain't the colour of burnt sugar. Bleedin' Earthers always callin' us odd."

It was the strangest piece of racism Erlin had ever encountered. Her first doctorate had been in history because she had been fascinated by her genetic heritage. Not that she was a true Negro, there had been none for more than a five hundred years, nor any other definite racial types, but her skin was very dark. She was almost a throwback, but for her white hair and blue eyes. The people here though, on this strange little world, were very different from the usual run of humanity. She handed Peck a couple of bottles.

"Here. I want your next urine samples. Now I'll take some blood." This she did, quickly and efficiently. You could not take too much time over such things with hoopers as they healed so fast a needle would block in less than thirty seconds. When Peck grumbled his way back out onto deck she got the blood under her nanoscope and found the fibrous structures she had expected to find. It was all coming together now. She had a d.a.m.ned good idea of what was going on and reckoned that when she made her report, Spatterjay would be descended on by just about every science team in the Polity.

Ambel grinned to himself as Jane dragged Peck below decks and the rest of the group broke up in disappointment. He carved himself a slice of rhinoworm and chewed on it contemplatively. They really did need a sail. He did not like to hang around the islands for too long as he was well aware that the Skinner was still active. One day he intended to come here alone and catch the mad b.a.s.t.a.r.d. One day. He turned as Erlin came out on deck and stood next to him gazing with distaste at the worm steak.

"Want a bit?" he asked her. Her food ran out a couple of days ago and he knew she must be hungry.

"I wouldn't mind if it was cooked," she said.

He shook his head. "Destroys the flavour."

"No, the stuff tastes awful - what it destroys is all the nutritional value for humans."

Ambel nodded and carved another slice. He held it out to her, blue blood dripping down his fingers. "Go on, it'll do you good."

Erlin took the slice and nibbled a bit off the edge. A sudden look of astonishment transformed her features. She ate the whole slice.

"It tastes good," she said. "When I first had some it tasted like copper and curry powder."

He carved her another slice, and as he did this she studied his hugely broad back. His bluish skin was mottled, looked almost patterned. It was only then that she realised the effect was caused by leech scars layered upon each other in their thousands.

"Did you fall in the sea or something?" she asked.

"Once or twice," he said, turning and handing her some more meat.

"You have a lot of leech scars. I didn't realise it until just now. You're covered with them. Could I have a blood sample from you?"

"Sometime," he said, not meeting her eyes.

She was about to say more when there was a shout from the cabin roof.

"Sail! Sail coming in!"

Erlin peered up at the sky. She had heard about this but never seen it. When the hover car had dropped her at the s.h.i.+p it had been as it was now: bare masted and moored by this island.

The sail undulated in on the east wind; a great veined sheet turning the flesh-filtered light underneath it a strange orangey pink. It caught hold of the top of the mainmast with one long bony hand, swung around and replaced that grip with a coil of its tail before moving that hand along with many others down onto the spars. Its lizard head on a long whiplike neck came questing down to the deck. Ambel pulled the worm steak off its spike and walked up to the creature's head. The sail licked its lips with a dark-blue forked tongue and eyed the steak hungrily.

"How are you called?" asked Ambel, as was only proper.

"I am Windcatcher," replied the sail, as replied all sails, never having mastered the idea that names could be an individual thing. Ambel gave it the steak, which it chomped down hungrily. Erlin watched the lumps of meat travelling up its translucent neck to where its stomach could be seen bubbling between the first two spars. When it had finished the meat it yawned loudly, shrugged the vast sheet of its body, then wrapped its neck around the mast and closed its eyes.

"Amazing," said Erlin, but by that time Ambel had moved away and was giving orders. Erlin walked up to the triangular head resting on the deck and wondered if she might be able to get a sample without waking it. She stepped a little closer and removed a hand microtome from her overall pocket. The sail opened one demonic red eye and looked at her.

"b.u.g.g.e.r off," it said, then closed its eye.

The anchor socketed with a crash and crewman Boris ran yelling down the deck, swiping at a frog-whelk that had come up clinging to the chain, leapt onboard, and bitten a lump out of his calf before running away making a sound suspiciously like a t.i.tter. Boris cornered it by the forecabin and threatened it with a hammer. The whelk considered its options, looking from side to side with its stalked eyes, then spat out its prize before sidling towards the rail. Boris s.n.a.t.c.hed his missing part and shoved it back into place before limping back to his station. Erlin looked on with her mouth hanging open, then quickly ducked into her cabin when she saw the whelk eyeing her estimatingly from the rail. There was a thump against her door just as she got it closed. Outside she heard yelling and cursing, then a squeal of surprise and a wet crunch. When she edged her cabin door open she saw Ambel toss something over the side then reach down and sc.r.a.pe something off his boot with his knife. He grinned at her.

"All clear," he said.

Erlin closed her door, leant her back against it, then slid down until she was sitting on the floor. Culture shock? She would just have to get used to it. She bit down hard on a giggle.

On the third day of sail Erlin finally got Ambel into her cabin for a blood sample, but, when she pushed the syringe into him she could get nothing into it, and after a moment it popped out of his arm. Thoroughly determined now, Erlin tried a chaingla.s.s scalpel on his skin with a pad held ready to soak some blood up. The scalpel went in all right, but when she pulled it out again the wound sealed instantly. She tried again with two scalpels, side by side, to hold the wound open between. The gap she opened abruptly filled with flesh and skinned over. When she removed the scalpels those wounds closed as quickly as the first.

"Doctor at the port tried once. Don't reckon I got any blood any more."

Erlin thought about the fibrous structures she had seen down the nanoscope. Peck, who claimed to be a hundred and eighty years old, had the most in his blood she had ever seen. The rest of the crew she had taken samples from; Jane, Boris, Pland, and Mede, who were comparative infants at ages ranging from fifty to a hundred and ten, had proportionally less.

"How old are you, Ambel?"

"Oh, a bit."

Ambel rolled down his s.h.i.+rt sleeve and looked s.h.i.+fty.

"Come on. This is really important."

"Don't rightly know. Been on the s.h.i.+ps for a while."

Erlin wasn't having that. "You do know. Don't fob me off!"

Ambel looked uncomfortable. "No one believes me," he complained.

"I will."

Ambel got up and headed for the door, as he opened it he mumbled, "Spatterjay Hoop was a crazy git." He went out onto the deck.

Erlin sat down on the chair and shook her head. They were all crazy gits, and Ambel was no better. If he thought she was going to believe he knew Spatterjay Hoop, the man after whom this strange little world was named more than five centuries ago, then he was probably worse. Ridiculous idea. Wasn't it?

"Sail's awake! Sail's awake!" bellowed Boris from his favourite vantage on the roof of the forecabin. The head was questing around the deck, its eyes blinking sleepily. As Erlin came out of her cabin to see what new madness might occur, the sail looked at her, yawned, then sneezed. Ambel ran for the hatch cover, opened it and jumped down inside, then climbed out with a worm steak on his shoulder. He held it out for the sail, which took it in its mouth, hesitated a moment, then spat it out on the deck.

"Wormy," it said with disgust.

Ambel shrugged. The sail watched him for a moment then unwound itself from the mast, released its holds and undulated away through the air. The s.h.i.+p slowed as Erlin walked over to the steak and inspected it. A long thin worm poked its head out of the meat, grinned at her with a mouth full of small triangular teeth, then dived back in. Ambel picked the meat up and threw it over the side before Erlin could object. He eyed her carefully.

"I've had worms," he said, then said to Boris, "see anything?"

Boris pointed off to one side. "Island over there."