Part 3 (1/2)
His simian face broke into a grin as discordant noises floated nearer. ”Why, here he is now. Heragli, dear friend, do hurry. We must leave this delightful planet immediately.”
His voice carried to the Rowra, who had just emerged from the canebrake with Bagheera on one side and Baloo on the other. Staggering, Heragli sat down, licked one oversized paw, and began to wash his face. Peering past Echpo, Tanni saw that the General's swiping motions were rather unsteady.
”Heragli!” said the Chakban on a sharper note. ”Pay attention!”
”Go sputz yourself,” boomed the Rowra, and broke into song. ”Oh, when I was twenty-one, when I was twenty-one, I never had lots of mvrouwing but I always had lots of fun. My basket days were over and my prowling days begun, on the very very rrnowing night when I was twenty-one-Chorus!” he roared, beating time with a wavering paw, and the two Hokas embraced him and chimed in: ”When we wash twenty-one-”
”Heragli!” yelled Echpo. ”What's wrong with you?”
Tanni could have told him. She realized suddenly, as she stood there with the Chakban's heavy grip on her wrist, that when she evoked thirst in Baloo and Bagheera, she had pointed them in one inevitable direction: the abandoned camp of the Black Tyrone. The phrase ”take Shere Khan off and let him drink with you” could have only one meaning to a Hoka. Heragli, like many beings before him, had encountered the fiery Tokan liquor.
There are bigger, stronger, wiser races than the Hokas, but the Galaxy knows none with more capacity. Heragli was twice the size and eight times the weight of a Hoka, but his companions were just pleasantly high, while he was-no other word will do-potted. And Tanni was willing to bet that Baloo and Bagheera were each two bottles ahead of him.
The General rolled over on his back and waved his feet in the air. ”Oh, that little ball of yarn-” he warbled.
”Heragli!” shrieked Echpo.
”Oh, those wild, wild kittens, those wild, wild kittens, they're making a wildcat of me!”
”General!”
”Old tomcats never die, they just fa-a-a-aade-huh? Whuzza matta wi' you, monkey?” demanded Heragli, still on his back, looking at the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p upside down from bloodshot eyes. ”Stannin' onna head. Ridd.i.c.kerluss, ab-so-lute-ly . . . Oh, curse the city that stole muh Kitty, by dawn she'll-Le's havva nuther one, mnowrr, 'fore you leave me! h.e.l.l an' d.a.m.nation,” said Heragli, suddenly dropping from the peak of joyous camaraderie to the valley of bitter suspicion, ”dirty work inna catagon. Pa.s.sed over f' promotion, twishe. Cla.s.smate, too . . . Is this a ray gun that I see b'fore me, the handle toward muh hand? Come, lemme clutch thee. . . . Monkeys an' snakes. Gallopin' horrors, I call 'em. Never trus' a primate-” and he faded off into mutterings.
”General!” called Echpo, sternly. ”Pull yourself together and come aboard. We're leaving.”
”Huh? Awri', awri', awri'-'' said Heragli in a bleared tone. He lurched to all four feet, focused with some effort on the s.h.i.+p, and wobbled in its general direction.
”Mom!” cried a boyish voice, and Alex broke into the meadow. ”What's going on?” He spotted Tanni with Echpo's hand clutching her. ”What're you doing to my mother?”
”Heragli!” yelped Echpo. ”Stop that brat!”
The Rowra blinked. Whether he would have obeyed if he had been sober, or if he had not been brooding about other races and the general unfairness of life, is an open question. He was not a bad felinocentauroid at heart. But as it was, he saw Alex running toward the s.h.i.+p, growled the one word ”Primate!” to himself, and crouched for a leap.
His first mistake had been getting drunk. His second was to ignore, or be unaware of, three facts. These were, in order: 1) A Hoka, though not warlike, enjoys a roughhouse.
2) A Hoka's tubby appearance is most deceptive; he is, for instance, more than a match for any human.
3) Baloo and Bagheera did not think Shere Khan should be allowed to harm the Man-Cub.
Heragli leaped. Baloo met him in mid-air, head to head. There was a loud, hollow thonk, and Heragli fell into a sitting position with a dazed look on his face while Baloo did a reeling sort of off-to-Buffalo. At that moment, Bagheera entered the wars. He would have been more effective had he not religiously adhered to the principle of fighting like a black panther, scrambling onto the Rowra's back, scratching and biting.
”Ouch!” howled Heragli, regaining full consciousness. ”What the sputz? Get the snrrowl off me! Leggo, you illegitimate forsaken object of an origin which the compilers of Leviticus would not have approved! Wrowrrl!” And he made frantic efforts to reach over his shoulder.
”Striped Killer!” squeaked Bagheera joyously. ”Hunter of helpless frogs! Lame Thief of the Waingunga! Take that! And that!”
”What're you talking about? Never ate a frog in m' life. Unhand me-gug!” Bagheera had wrapped both st.u.r.dy arms around Heragli's neck and started throttling him.
At the same time Baloo recovered sufficiently to stage a frontal attack. Fortunately, being in the role of a bear, he could fight like a bear, which is to say, very much like a Hoka. Accordingly, he landed a stiff one-two on Heragli's nose and then, as the Rowra reared up, wheezing, he fell into a clinch that made his enemy's ribs creak. Breaking cleanly, he landed a couple of hard punches in the midriff of Heragli's torso, chopped him over the heart, sank his teeth into the right foreleg, was lifted off his feet by an anguished jerk, used the opportunity to deliver a double kick to the chin while flurrying a series of blows, and generally made himself useful.
”Run, Alex!” cried Tanni.
The boy paused, uncertain, as Rowra and Hokas tore up the sod a meter from him.
”Run! Do what Mother tells you! Get help!”
Reluctantly, Alex turned and sped for the woods. Tanni felt Echpo's grasp s.h.i.+ft as he moved behind her. When he pulled a Holman raythrower from beneath his tunic, the blood seemed to drain out of her heart.
”Believe me, dear lady, I deplore this,” said the Chakban. ”I had hoped to keep my weapon unknown and untouched. But we cannot risk your son's warning the authorities too soon, can we? And then there are those Hokas.” He pinned her against the wall and sighted on Alex. ”You do understand my position, don't you?” he asked anxiously.
Struggling and screaming, Tanni clawed for his eyes. The brow ridges defeated her. She saw the gun muzzle steady- -and there was a shock that threw her from Echpo's grip and out onto the ground.
Dazed, she scrambled to her feet with a wild notion of throwing herself in the path of the beam . . . But where was Echpo?
The airlock seemed to hold nothing but coil upon coil of Seesis. Only gradually, as her vision cleared, did Tanni make out a contorted face among those cable-thick bights. The Chakban was scarcely able to breathe, let alone move.
”Sssssso!” Seesis adjusted his pince-nez and regarded his prisoner censoriously. ”So you lied to me. You were prepared to commit violence after all. I am shocked and grieved. I thought you shared my abhorrence of bloodshed. I see that you must be gently but firmly educated until you understand the error of your ways and repent and enter the gentle brotherhood of beings. Lie still, now, or I will break your back.”
”I-” gasped Echpo. ”I . . . had . . . my duty-”
”And I,” answered Seesis, swaying above him, ”have my honor.”
Alex fell into his mother's arms. She was not too full of thanksgiving to pick up the fallen gun. Across the meadow, Baloo and Bagheera stood triumphant over a semi-conscious Heragli and beamed at their snaky ally.
The Cold Lairs were taken. The Man-Cub had been rescued from Bandar-log and Lame Thief. Kaa's Hunting was finished.
t.i.tle: Hokas Pokas Author: Poul Anderson & Gordon R. d.i.c.kson ISBN: 0-671-57858-8 1983 by Poul Anderson & Gordon R.
Copyright: d.i.c.kson Publisher: Baen Books
II.
The NapoleOn Crime
1.
The Napoleon Crime.
Be it understood at the outset, the disaster was in no way the fault of Tanni Hostrup Jones. Afterward she blamed herself bitterly, but most unfairly. She was overburdened with other matters, hence unable to concentrate on this one. She had no reason whatsoever to suspect evil of Leopold Ormen; after all, he was a Dane like herself, as well as being a famous journalist. Furthermore, while Tanni was chaste, she was a full-blooded woman, her husband had been gone for days and might not return for weeks, and Ormen had a great deal of masculine charm.
Having arrived on Toka by private s.p.a.cecraft and settled into the Mixumaxu Hilton, he made an appointment to see her and at the time agreed on arrived at the plenipotentiary's residence. The day was beautiful and the walk through the quaint streets a delight. Native Hokas swarmed about, their exuberance often becoming deference when they saw the human. He smiled benignly and patted an occasional cub on the head. The adults looked just as cuddly: rather like bipedal, meter-tall teddy bears with golden fur and stubby hands, attired in a wild variety of costumes, everything from a barbarian's leather and iron to the elegant gray doublet and hose of his little companion, as well as Roman, Mandarin, cowboy, and other garb. Yet with few exceptions the squeaky voices chattered in English.
Thus, when he reached his destination, Ormen was not unduly surprised to be greeted at the door by a Hoka wearing coa.r.s.e medieval-like clothes, hobnailed boots, a yellow hood, and a long white false beard tucked into a broad belt from which hung a geologist's hammer, a coil of rope, and a lantern. ”h.e.l.lo,” the man said, and gave his name. ”Mrs. Jones is expecting me.”