Fortis decided he really liked hammocks.
It was hard to get out of it, but not because of the design. It was simply very comfortable on his aching muscles. The long nap after they first stopped and set up the tent was not long enough, but George insisted he train some more with the lance before dinner.
While they were thus engaged, the twins slipped away into the trees. They returned with a collection of game fowl, which made a marvelous dinner. That, despite what Fortis considered a very ugly butchering and cleaning process. But the boys handled it all themselves.
They rarely spoke. Fortis thought at first it was simply deference, but George mentioned how much he liked hunters because they were so quiet. So it was something natural to their work, obviously. Finally, Fortis recognize the small gestures, a highly subtle and abbreviated sign language.
“You know we have advanced medically to the point almost no one born deaf stays that way. Even here on Misty we do aural circuit implants. Still, we have maintained an official sign language. It’s taught in every academy, particularly useful for working in the desert where the high winds make conversation difficult.” He glanced at Fortis from his own hammock. “My clan home borders part of the desert belt.”
He was silent a moment. “But these boys are using a rather private version, with only a vague resemblance to the official one. I recognize the patterns, but not the meanings. I assume it’s a benefit of growing up so close to someone your whole life who thinks and acts the same.”
Fortis watched them awhile at the other end of the tent. Their hammocks were much lighter, but obviously well used. Nothing but a thin net, the end spreaders went stiff when pinched, like the tent frame. Fortis luxuriated in the denser fabric panel with the solid wood spreaders. It gave just a bit to accommodate an elbow or his aching back, yet held its basic shape, hugging him warmly. When he moved to roll out, it seemed to give just enough to make for an easy exit.
And while he was in no hurry to do so each morning, well before dawn, he knew it was necessary. Part of the reason he loved the hammock, though, was because the soreness in his back, especially, was somewhat less than when he slept on the mattress on the ground. Too bad it required sturdy trees for the tent to withstand the load strung from the spines running in the ceiling. The spines wouldn’t break, of course, but the whole tent would simply fold under the weight were it not firmly guyed to fat solid trees.
The five days passed quickly in the routine. During that time, the twins killed two predators, one which had dared to face them on the road. It was about half his size, Fortis estimated, after they told him it was a big one. It’s forelegs were long and thin, ending in a triple hooked claw, and two vestigial digits on either side. They ran on their knuckles, with the claws tucked under. The hind legs were thicker and shorter, and this one easily reared on them to threaten with the claws. The dark brown hair was thick, streaked with faint variations in shade. The snout took up half the face, round and not particularly long.
The twins skinned the two they killed, salting the pelts down and rolling them for travel, but stretching them for drying in the evening. They carried a bunch of clips with thin net bags. The skins were hung from a limb first thing, with the clipped bags filled with rocks stretching them. In the morning, the boys would scrape off insects trapped in the gooey underside. They sprinkled on more chemicals, then rolled the pelts tightly into a peculiar cloth cover they carried for the purpose. George explained the pelts had some value, but only insects and birds cared for the meat.
Four other predators were chased off, perhaps wounded. There were no more encounters with the human kind. Thus, he was puzzled when George insisted they set up camp, on schedule, just five kilometers from the hilly grassland rising up to the city.
As they lay in their hammocks after lunch, George stared at the ceiling. “Stanley is certain we were still being followed until this morning. Most likely that means whomever it is has gone on ahead into the city.”
“If the predators were such a chore for us, how did our pursuit handle them?”
“Slept in the trees, using a hunter’s hammock like the boys. There is a range of much more expensive and ultra-light military equipment for extended survival. I’m betting it’s a ranger. Not quite so specialized as the boys, but highly trained in tracking people, avoiding capture, moving fast and consuming very little for long periods. He would carry a terribly expensive Gauss weapon, lots of metal. One of the few still functioning after all these years without replacements or parts. They take a lot of power, so with the feeble daylight of Misty, even a fully charged battery pack” — he paused just a second — “would mean something just slightly more effective than our weapons, but far more compact, using tiny metal darts for ammunition.”
With the advent of such highly efficient energy weapons in the rest of the galaxy, Fortis had seen few Gauss weapons, mostly museum pieces. Nothing on Misty could replace the bare minimum wiring necessary to create a powerful electromagnetic field. Here, then, they would just barely work.
George went on, “Their importation here has been strictly controlled. Given our barter rate in the past, each one would equal over a ton of our products, so it’s not hard to track. Any clan with a significant number of them would have too great an advantage in battle. The temptation to take over would prove too irresistible.”
Fortis digested this in silence for a few minutes. “So you and others suspect this is what these two clans plan to do, if they can somehow seize control of some part of the future trade.”
George smiled broadly. “You never fail to bless me with your quick intuition, Fortis.” He turned his head to face Fortis. “So tell me — why would I want us to wait here, now that this nameless ranger has surely gone into the city to meet with his confederates?”
“They’ll try to stop us.” Fortis felt that tiny chill again.
“But because we don’t come waltzing into town this afternoon, they’ll have to come look for us. Did you notice we came farther off the road than usual to set up camp today?”
Fortis had thought it was because the trees weren’t quite right near the road. He nodded.
“This will be another midnight move. The boys aren’t hunting dinner, but scouting right now. For our enemies to mobilize a search, they’ll have to move. Regardless of their ostensible reason for leaving their other duties, it would mean a coordinated departure from the city. We will trap them by notifying trusted authorities. While we would hardly catch them all, it will throw things into disarray for them. We’ll slip into a village not too far from here, where an old friend of mine has a very light-footed daughter. She can enter the city without attracting attention, and knows a few other friends of mine at the academy.”
Fortis didn’t sleep at all that evening. His body rested, but his mind drifted all over that ocean of thought. It was no longer fear, because he felt confident Elder Bradley would do his part, and whatever happened now was his own personal adventure. That sense of the Other’s presence was not particularly comforting, but his fear seemed to drown in the fascination for the intrigue. It was as if his life had become a very engaging adventure story. George’s confidence the real threat was capture, not death, was plausible. By the same token, Fortis was certain dying to avoid being used as a pawn for evil was not such a bad thing, even if George and he alone knew they were just a couple of weeks away, at most, from his spacecraft returning home.
With the first spooler almost off planet, he began reliving his adventures and recording them on his secondary.
He found himself praying again.
