Meridian Days (11 page)

He indicated a boulder among the scree five metres down the slope. We slid down, grabbing at each other for support and creating a minor avalanche of sand and rock, the sound clattering and echoing in the stillness.

We reached the cover of the boulder and Abe rested his rifle on its apex like the last defender of some old-time stockade. I was panting from the exertion; we might have been a hundred kilometres nearer the coast than we were on our last trip, but the increased activity of the solar flares made the difference negligible.

"The lions keep to the valley bottom during mating periods," Abe said. "As soon as I see a likely candidate, I want you to return to the truck and take it over the edge. I'll pot the lion, jump aboard and we'll make straight for it before it has time to come round."

I nodded, staring down the slope at the distant jungle. I made out the occasional pterasaur, flapping through the tree-tops, but there was no sign of any lions.

Beside me, Abe clutched his rifle and cursed whenever a movement in the valley bottom turned out to be something other than a lion. I had never seen him this tense before; he was far from his usual, composed self, and it struck me that his eagerness to bag a lion was at odds with the Abe I knew, the conservationist who had turned his island into a sanctuary for the endangered species of the planet.

I broke the silence. "Abe, I appreciate this."

He glanced across at me. I made out a faint smile beneath his tinted face-mask. "Don't mention it."

"You don't mind...?" I gestured.

He shook his head. "I've been thinking about it ever since Trevellion asked me to capture her a lion at the party the other night. I didn't want to do it then, for
her
, but... I have to admit that I regretted turning down her offer. Over the past two days the thought's never been far from my mind — I've even dreamed about it." He returned his scrutiny to the rift valley.

I shrugged. "I just thought you might object to what Trevellion's going to do with it."

"I suppose part of me does, Bob. But some other, infantile side of me relishes the prospect."

I stared at him.

"I need to lay the ghost, get my revenge. I know it's stupid, unworthy of me..."

"Revenge?" I echoed.

"Revenge, Bob, for what happened here a year ago. Didn't you know? Pat was attacked and killed by a sand lion."

Despite the heat, I began to shiver as if with shock. "Christ, Abe. If I'd known... I'm sorry. I should never have asked you."

He laughed. "I told you. I needed this. Perhaps something good will come of it—"

He stopped. His body tensed, and he stared down the valley at a hunched, shambling form emerging from the undergrowth and rooting through the sand with its horned snout. At the sight of the beast, I was overcome by its power and air of menace.

"Get the truck down here!" Abe hissed.

I ran back up the slope, slipping and sliding as I went. Seconds before I reached the vehicle, I heard the quick hiss of laser fire followed by a bone-jarring clunk as the bolt connected with the armoured lion. I dived into the cab and eased the truck over the edge of the precipice, my chest hitting the wheel as I took the slope, turbos roaring. Abe was standing on the boulder, and as I passed he leapt onto the flat-bed and readied the crane mechanism.

Two hundred metres below us, the sand lion lay on its side, stumpy legs twitching. Its mouth hung open, revealing an awry thicket of sickle-shaped fangs, and its thick brow-ridge was scorched from the impact of the laser.

I slowed the truck and drew alongside, keeping the turbos running for a quick retreat should the animal recover. In the flat-bed Abe was working frantically to hoist the cage on its boom and swing it over the side. As I waited, wondering how soon the lion might come to its senses and seek revenge, the barred shadow of the cage swooped over the cab and out above the lion. Abe lowered the cage — it contained the animal with just centimetres to spare — then activated the bars in the base. They displaced the lion, rolling it onto its back, and snapped into place. He hit the switch to retrieve the cage, and the crane mechanism groaned and the truck yawed on its cushion of air as the cage bearing the one tonne of armoured meat lifted and swung by agonising degrees back over the cab and onto the flat-bed. The cage hit the deck and the truck bucked.

I was about to rev the turbos, turn and head for the slope when the second lion emerged at a gallop from an arbour of vines and lianas. It paused long enough to allow its tiny brain to assess the situation, then decided that the truck could be considered a predator and charged.

"Abe!" I cried. It was the first and last thing I could do before the lion smashed head on into the front fender. The jarring impact sent the truck into a careering backspin. I wrestled with the controls, the turbos whining with the strain of maintaining balance and height with so heavy a cargo aboard.

The vehicle stabilised, facing the stunned lion. It gained its feet, and only when I realised that it was intent on a second charge did I see Abe. The impact had pitched him from the flat-bed; he was on his hands and knees, mid-way between the truck and the animal. The lion charged, the truck forgotten for more edible prey.

I accelerated, stuck my head through the open window and yelled, "Abe!"

He had the presence of mind to fall flat as the truck swept over him and crashed into the advancing lion. This time the lion hit with a crunch of bone, the fender sprang loose and the hood buckled. I winded myself against the wheel and the truck swung away to reveal Abe on his belly a matter of feet away from the stunned lion, already stirring itself. I accelerated again, swung open the passenger door and yelled At him to get inside. Dazed, he staggered to his feet and launched himself into the cab as the lion charged and smashed the door shut behind him. I opened the throttle and headed for the incline, and Abe collapsed into the seat and laughed with shock and relief.

Once out of the ravine and on the flat plain of Brightside, I cut the turbos. The truck settled; the cooling engine ticked in the silence. The caged lion was still unconscious.

"Christ, Abe..."

He regarded me, laughed. "I'm fine Bob. I owe you one. You never told me you were a demolition derby champion."

I smiled. "I wasn't," I said. "I just crashed smallships."

Abe took a long drink from the canteen and passed it to me. We exchanged seats and he drove away from the Cunningham Rift, on a course parallel to the ocean.

"I never told you what happened back there last year," he said after a while. "We'd been watching lions for a couple of years before we traced them to the rift, and when we found their breeding ground we decided to film them. We could have installed remote cameras in the valley bottom, but I wanted to go one better. Can you imagine that?"

"You went down there and filmed them yourselves?"

"We planned to go into the valley, knock out a lion and fit it with a camera, linked to home. We'd done it with smaller animals, but nothing as big or as dangerous as a lion. We knew a well-aimed laser could put it under long enough for us to strap a miniature camera to its skull. It should have been a quick, routine operation..."

In the cage behind us, the lion roared. I looked through the rear window, and the sight of the angry, armour-plated beast, with only a metre between us, made me uneasy. As I watched, the lion gained its feet and lunged. The truck side-swiped, and Abe fought to get it back on course.

"Anyway," he continued, "we went into the valley with the truck — this truck — and a couple of lasers, parked up and waited. It wasn't long before a lion showed itself, poking around the truck. I waited until it was retreating, fired and hit the side of its head. It went down instantly and didn't stir."

He stopped here, gripping the wheel. "We climbed out and approached the lion. Pat had the camera. She stood by its head and positioned the camera at the base of its frontal horns. I fastened the straps. We were working fast. We reckoned we had about forty-five seconds, sixty tops... We reckoned wrong. The lion came to and struggled to its feet. We ran, but the lion was between Pat and the truck. She tried to circle round it and get back to the truck... but the lion cut her off and lunged. The stupid things was, Bob, I'd left my laser in the cab. I had to run back for it while the lion... while it attacked Pat. I emptied a dozen bolts into it, probably concussed it for days. Then I picked Pat up and carried her back to the truck. Christ, she was in a bad way... but I thought that if I got her to Main fast enough — the marvel of modern medicine and all that." He opened his palms flat on the wheel, closed them and shook his head. "It was no good, Bob. I got there a couple of hours later and the surgeons started work on her straight away, but it was no good. There was nothing they could do." He gave a sudden, bitter laugh. "From that day, I've kept away from the lions. I blamed myself for not taking a laser with me. Perhaps if I had..." He looked at me and smiled. "We can play 'what if' for ever, Bob, but it doesn't change a thing."

He lapsed into silence then, and for the next thirty minutes we travelled on without a word. Only the lion gave voice, roaring in protest at its continued captivity and lurching from side to side in the cage.

The Solar Research Station emerged from the heat haze on the horizon, a ziggurat of blinding white blocks with sloping, darkened windows. Beside it, I made out what I thought was a second, smaller building — though I could not recall having seen it there before. The Telemass operation had ceased.

Abe drove through the gates and into the compound. He settled the truck before the building, opened the door and jumped out. He stopped, then. He stared back between the truck and the facade of the station, his expression watchful.

"Abe?" I asked.

He glanced back at me. "Stay where you are," he said. "Get down!"

I ducked. Abe slammed the door.

"Hey!" someone called. The cry echoed off the front of the building, accompanied by the sound of footsteps.

All I could see from my foetal position was the top of Abe's head. Seconds later he was joined by someone wearing a light blue Telemass cap and carrying a laser rifle: its barrel projected over his shoulder.

"What the hell...?" the Telemass guard said.

"I was just passing. I saw the lights. Abe Cunningham — zoologist."

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to accompany me, Mr Cunningham."

They moved off, their footsteps receding.

I was torn between remaining where I was and leaping out and following Abe. But Abe's warning, and the sight of the armed guard, spoke to the coward in me. I stayed where was, curled uncomfortably beneath the dash.

Minutes passed before I began to question the ridiculousness of my reactions. I had no reason to assume that Abe was in danger. Telemass guards with lasers were, after all, a common sight on Main.

I decided to find out what was keeping Abe. I sat up, opened the door and jumped out, and as I did so the area around the station was bathed in an explosion of golden light as quick as lightning.

Cautiously I walked away from the truck, rounded the corner of the station and came upon what earlier I had assumed was a second building. Now I saw it was nothing of the sort. Stacked in the compound beside the Research Station were a dozen long, industrial containers — a monolithic unit silhouetted against the bright horizon.

Of Abe and the guard, or anyone else, there was no sign.

Behind the building, the Telemass Organisation had set up a small, hexagonal pad of bronze metal, perhaps fifty metres across. Beside it was a control tower, identical to the one at the station on Main, but in miniature. An air of stillness and desertion, at one with the abandoned atmosphere of the rest of the station, hung over the Telemass apparatus.

I retraced my footsteps to the stack of containers. Across the corrugated surface of the first was stencilled: B26a/Hydroponics/Meridian/Beta Hydri VI. I moved on to the next and read: B26b/Harvester/ Meridian/Beta Hydri VI.

I wondered why such supplies had been designated to Meridian, and why the Telemass Organisation thought it necessary to stockpile the supplies out here in the middle of nowhere. Then I recalled the flash of golden light, and wondered why they had 'massed Abe back to Main Island...

I returned to the truck, drove out of the compound and back towards the sea, feeling not so much uneasy as confused. The frantic activity of the caged lion ensured that I kept my mind on the driving. One hour later I came upon the welcome sight of the ocean, and thirty minutes after that I settled the truck on the jetty of my island.

I lost no time in contacting the Telemass station. I demanded to be put through to Director Wolfe Steiner — but the receptionist told me that the Director was busy and could talk to no one.

I calmed myself with the thought that I was getting worked up over nothing, that Abe had probably been detained for trespassing on what was now Telemass Organisation property. There was nothing to worry about, I told myself. I decided against calling Doug Foulds and asking his advice. No doubt Abe would call me when he got the chance.

I recalled the sand lion on the back of the truck. I showered, changed, and then made my way to Trevellion's island.

~

I gunned the engine of the truck, surged from the marina and made my way along a narrow track which curved around the bay and climbed gently towards the hilltop dome. The sand lion ceased its roaring and contented itself with gnawing the bars of its cage.

I arrived on the lawn where the party had been held, settled the truck and jumped down. Off to one side, a dozen workmen were putting the finishing touches to a long, caged run: the sand lion's home away from home. A battery of lamps was directed at the enclosure to provide the animal with the heat and light of Brightside.

Tamara Trevellion, her scales flashing a petroleum sheen in the sunlight, supervised the operation. She moved from man to man, giving advice and instruction with her usual air of disdain. I looked around for Fire.

Trevellion turned, saw me, and stepped across the lawn, fins rippling in the breeze of her advance. Her piscean expression, heavy and deadpan, was as unreadable as ever. "Benedict," she called. "I trust the animal caused you no trouble?"