Wolf Worlds by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch

Author:Allan Cole & Chris Bunch [Cole, Allan & Bunch, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780345312297
Google: Zfb8AAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0345312295
Publisher: Ballantine Del Rey
Published: 1984-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FORTY

it had taken almost two days to dig Khorea and what little remained of his command structure out of the bunker. They'd found him, huddled undera vee-section of the collapsed ceiling, deep in trance state. The Jann medics had quickly brought him out of it, and Khorea had refused further aid. He'd insisted on taking charge of the final destruction of the mercenaries. Khorea was probably still in minor shock, delayed battle stress. He had ordered the slow death of the mercenaries who'd deserted and insisted that all Jann be ordered to take no pris�oners. He was determined to wipe out the far-worlders who'd shamed the Jann�to the slow death of the last man and woman. Khorea now sat behind the hastily rerigged computers and screens in the command post. He hated them and longed for the days when a leader led from the front. Then he half smiled. Realized that all of his electronics, all of his analysis, produced only one answer�the mercenaries would not, could not, surrender. He shut down his command sensor and stood. "General!" An aide. "Tomorrow. We will attack. And I will lead the final as�sault." The aide�eyes wide in hero worship�saluted.

191 192 "Tonight, then, assemble my staff. We shall show these worms what Jann are, from the highest to the lowest. But tonight�tonight we shall assemble for prayers. Here. One hour after nightfall."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

". . . but before we could stalk the streggan," the ancient Bhor creaked, "there was preparation. We fasted and consid�ered the nature of our ancient enemy. And then, once we had determined our mind upon him, we feasted. Then and only then would we set out across the wave-struck ice to find him, hidden deep in his lair...." Ancient, Otho thought, wasn't the word for the old Bhor. One sign of approaching death for a Bhor was for the pelt on his chest to begin turning gray. Shortly thereafter, the Bhor would assemble his family and friends for the final guesting and then disappear out onto the ice to die the death, lonely but for the gods. This Bhor, however, was almost totally white-haired from curled gnarly feet to beetled brow. He was, as far as anyone knew, the last surviving streggan hunter. And so they listened in council. Just as the council had patiently listened to Otho, still being bandaged from the wounds incurred as he'd pirouetted his lighter up and out-atmosphere when he heard of Parrel's abandonment. Just as they had listened to the youngest Bhor discuss why the entire Bhor people must immediately support the marooned warriors. Just as they had listened to the captain of a merchant fleet discuss calmly�for a Bhor (only two interruptions and one 193 194 hospitalization)�why the mercenaries should be abandoned and attempts made to reach reapproachment with the Jann. The merchant also happened to be Otho's chief trading rival. But the council listened, as they would listen to any Bhor. The Bhor were a truly democratic society�any of them could speak at any council.

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