(eng) Mike Resnick - Oracle Trilogy 02 by Oracle

Author:Oracle [Oracle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

16.

Port Marrakech, Port Samarkand, and Port Maracaibo were all high in the night sky as the Injun emerged from the unlit landcar half a mile from his destination.

“This is as close as I can go without attracting attention, sir,” said Broussard apologetically. “I'll wait here for you.”

The Injun nodded absently and tried to get his bearings. The suddenly-broadening, suddenly-narrowing, always-twisting streets looked a lot different in person than they did on a map, and he already felt mildly disoriented.

He had a small lithium-powered flashlight in the pocket of his tunic, and his first inclination was to pull out the map and double-check his position, but Men with maps weren't supposed to be here, and the light would only broadcast his presence.

He had wanted to approach his destination via alleyways, but there weren't any. His next notion was to go underground and make his way via the sewer system, but they had no map of it, and he didn't relish trying to find his way with no maps and no landmarks. So, keeping as near to the irregular buildings as he could, he began walking slowly and silently through the incredibly hot night. The humidity was minimal, but between the heat, the effort he was expending, and the tension, both his skin and clothes were soaked with perspiration before he had traveled more than one hundred yards.

He was fast approaching a very sharp corner, and suddenly he could hear voices—alien voices—somewhere up ahead of him. He turned and looked for the landcar, but it was lost in the shadows.

The voices grew clearer and louder, until he estimated that they were no more than thirty yards from the corner. He decided to duck into the doorway of the nearest building until they passed, then discovered that it didn't have a doorway. He backtracked a few steps, found a small alcove between that building and the one he had just passed, and darted into it. Then he crouched down and waited.

Five Blue Devils suddenly came into view as they turned the corner. One of them had an extremely high-pitched voice, but he couldn't discern any other difference among them. Four of them wore the triangles he had seen on his first day in Quichancha, and all five wore what appeared to be stoles made of some metallic fibre wrapped about their torsos.

As they reached a spot in the street opposite his hiding place, two of them got into what seemed to be an argument, and suddenly all five stopped walking. Voices grew strident, postures grew aggressive, and they remained where they were, gesticulating wildly.

The Injun felt his calves and thighs cramping up after a few minutes. He was horribly uncomfortable, his legs aching, his body pouring sweat, but he didn't dare move while the aliens were there. It would be bad enough to be seen walking through this section of the city, but to be found skulking would be infinitely worse.

Finally he could stand the pain no longer, and he carefully leaned forward,

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