For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [56]
“Will we?” Flinx asked anxiously. “Catch them, I mean.” His eyes searched the cloud-swept horizon, looking for the telltale glare of diffused sunlight on metal.
“No problem,” she assured him. “Not unless they have some special engines in those mudders. I’d think if they did, they’d be using ’em right now.”
“What happens when we catch them?”
“I’ll try cutting in front of them,” she said thoughtfully. “If that doesn’t make them stop, well—” she indicated the rifle resting nearby. “We can pick them off one at a time. That rifle’s accurate to a kilometer. The darts are gas-propelled, you see, and the gun has a telescopic sight that’ll let me put a dart in somebody’s ear if I have to.”
“What if they shoot back?”
“Not a paralysis pistol made that can outrange that rifle, let alone cover any distance with accuracy. The effect is dispersed. It’s only at close range that paralysis is effective on people. Or lethal to small animals,” she added bitterly. “If they’ll surrender, we’ll take them in and turn them over to the game authorities. You can add your own charges at the same time. Wervils are an endangered species on Moth. Of course, I’d much prefer that the scum resist so that we can defend ourselves.”
Such bloodthirstiness in so attractive a woman was no surprise to Flinx. He’d encountered it before in the marketplace. It was her motivation that was new to him. He wondered how old she was. Probably twice his own age, he thought, though it was difficult to tell for sure. Time spent in the wilderness had put rough edges on her that even harsh city life would be hard put to equal. It was a different kind of roughness; Flinx thought it very becoming.
“What if they choose to give themselves up?” He knew that was hardly likely, but he was curious to know what her contingency for such a possibility might be.
“Like I said, we take them back with us and turn them over to the game warden in Kalish.”
He made a short, stabbing motion with one hand. “That could be awkward for me.”
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I’ll see to it that you’re not involved. It’s not only the game laws they’ve violated. Remember that injured guest? Ms. Marteenson’s a sick woman. The effect of a paralysis beam on her could be permanent. So it’s not just the game authorities who’ll be interested in these people.
“As to you and your mother, the two of you can disappear. Why has she been kidnapped? For ransom?”
“She hasn’t any money,” Flinx replied. “Not enough to bother with, anyway.”
“Well, then, why?” Lauren’s eyes stayed on the tracker, occasionally drifting to scan the sky for signs of rain. The jet boat had a portable cover that she hoped they wouldn’t have to use. It would make aiming more difficult.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Flinx told her. “Maybe we’ll find out when we catch up with them.”
“We should,” she agreed, “though that won’t do Sennar and Soba any good. You’ve probably guessed by now that my opinion of human beings is pretty low. Present company excepted. I’m very fond of animals. Much rather associate with them. I never had a wervil betray me, or any other creature of the woods, for that matter. You know where you stand with an animal. That’s a major reason why I’ve chosen the kind of life I have.”
“I know a few other people who feel the way you do,” Flinx said. “You don’t have to apologize for it”
“I wasn’t apologizing,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Yet you manage a hunting lodge.”
“Not a hunting lodge,” she corrected him. “Fishing lodge. Strictly fishing. We don’t accommodate hunters here, but I can’t stop other lodges from doing so.”
“You have no sympathy for the fish, then? It’s a question of scales versus fur? The AAnn wouldn’t like that.”
She smiled. “Who cares what the AAnn think? As for the rest of your argument, it’s hard to get cozy with a fish. I’ve seen the fish of this lake gobble up helpless young wervils and other innocents that make the mistake of straying