Outies by Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle

Author:Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle [Niven, Larry & Pournelle, Jerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780615432717
Publisher: New Brookland Press
Published: 2010-12-06T06:00:00+00:00

With joy of heart

In the plain

With joy of heart

She sings and she

Soaks her mace

In blood and gore

And smashes heads

And butchers prey

With eater-ax

And bloodied spear

All day

They barked the final words in unison, then began again, on and on. Of course, the chant did not merely pass the time. It enabled each to know, at any moment, exactly where the others were.

It was not usual for a Master to accompany so small a Warrior detail into the field, but Lord Sargon had been quite explicit: “We would know the Enemy. Bring one to us. Unharmed.”

Enheduanna shook off a wave of disgust. The notion of vermin owning cattle was anathema. Vermin they were: they slept in the field with their cattle; they drank the fluids of their cattle; they clad themselves in the hair of their cattle; they burned the dung of their cattle, they trekked without regard to the ar of their neighbors, even as they laid waste to their own fields. Like vermin; like scavengers, that swarmed on the outskirts of Houses, fashioning bowers of baubles stolen from trash-piles, consuming the garbage carefully layered for compost by the Farmers, and stripping the ground around them to bare dirt. In such a case, absent their Master’s Voice, Warriors could hardly be expected to show restraint. They were what they were.

They cleared the softer rock, and now took greater care as they made their way up weathered laterite. A pair of Warriors flanked their Captain, each alternately driving home a chrshnar, the eater-ax, the razor-sharp and tungsten-tough Warrior’s fighting claw, to serve as living pitons for the clawless Master.

They paused on a step, where the baked surface peeled away from a crumbling granite core. This would be the tricky part: from there, they would move laterally, to a large cave mouth called Esker’s Tongue, named for the line of sand and gravel that poured from it to the plain below. There were almost no holds for the last post’s span: the Warriors would have to leapfrog where needed as a living chain for the Master. So, to prepare, they rested for a very short while.

The night was dark, but the cave was black. It would be better to have a Miner. Enheduanna did not bother to think too late now. It was what it was. The Warrior’s vision would get them most of the way. The rest, Enheduanna knew by heart.

Just shy of the exits, as a greenish glow made visible the porous walls around them, the hand leaders barked once. Enheduanna’s nictitating membranes snapped shut, as did all the others’, shielding their eyes from the dazzling glare as they sprinted out.

It was not Enheduanna’s job to get them to their prey. The hand leaders knew their mission. They hurtled up the rim, jerking to a halt just as the green beacon light winked out. They crouched among the rocks, two Warriors covering Enheduanna’s white fur with their black. The opal meerschaum glow etched the bowl with stark shadows. They listened. The vermin had begun their hideous noises again.

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