John Rackham by Beanstalk Page B

the lane was very slightly
cambered, and three inches deep in sluggish-flowing dirty water, patched here
and there with gray slime.
    "Put
me down," Jasar ordered, and, disregarding his wet feet, stopped to sniff
at the slow flow. "Just as I said. Nutrients. We can follow this. It's headed almost in the right
direction, and there'll be branch channels later."
    He
strode off rapidly, leaving Jack to plod in his wake, not liking the squelch in
his open sandals but enduring h as there was no alternative. It was easier,
anyway, than shoving through the weedy jungle.
    "You
spoke of fodder for fresh meat," he said. " What. . . ?" and forgot his question as he heard a heavy, hard-breathing,
crunching sound nearby. Over there, on his right, from the
weed-mass. Jasar heard it too, whipped around, and tilted his ear to
listen. At that moment the weed right by his arm parted to pass a glossy-wet
muzzle, followed by spine-stiff whiskers, and huge polished black eyes. The
massive muzzle took Jasar full in the ribs, knocking him aside in a helpless,
scrambling sprawl. The vast head twitched, black eyes focusing on the little
man's flailing arms and legs. There came a sharp snuff-snort of breath, skin
peeling back to reveal yellow incisors ... and Jack has his bow in hand, an arrow nocked, drawn to his chin and on aim
without consciously willing any of it. He picked a soft-looking spot under the
jaw-angle, loosed, drew another, and was up on aim as the first struck, and
"plucked" into the dirty brown fur. That jaw fell open more, let out a screech. The head swung. Jack loosed again, the cloth yard
hissing on its way, and drew another . . . but there was no need, this time.
That second shaft drove true, plunged into the bulging black eye, and hot
yellow stuff burst out. The massive head jerked back and up spasmodically, then
fell. The still-open jaws belched a gust of foul breath, a
groan, and then the thing, whatever it was, sagged and was stilL
    Jack
released his tension, flipped the third arrow back into his quiver, and shook
all over, feeling sick, needing to breathe hard. Jasar sat up, his feet only
inches away from that hideous snout, and stared first at the stuff that dribbled
from that ruined eye, then at Jack.
    "That,"
he said, and swallowed, "answers your question, I think. Small beasts—this
one's some kind of rodent— that nibble at the weed and provide fresh protein
for the food-machines. It makes for better flavor, if you have the room for it.
The Dargoon do themselves well!"
    Jack
fought off his quavers, slung his bow, and moved closer. As his nerves quieted
he realized that this thing was very like a rat, if one could accept that a rat
might be twice the size of a cow! The dirty gray-brown fur, the ears and the
teeth, were all very like those of a rat.
    "Would
there be many of these things?" he asked, and Jasar made a dry chuckle as
he got to his feet and wriggled.
    "Nothing
wrong with your nerve, nor your reflexes. Another eye-wink and that creature would
have had me by the leg at least. I'm in your debt again. I thank you. As for
how many, there's no way of telling, but I do know this, that there will be
other creatures, natural enemies of this one. Else the station would be
overrun. We will just have to keep a sharp lookout. Now what are you up to,
with that knife?"
    "My arrow!" Jack advanced on his kill. "I like not my chances of getting more
shafts here. I will not waste any." It was a messy job but no worse than
he had done before with deer, and rabbits, and as soon as he had rinsed the
shaft, and his arms to the elbows, they tramped on.
    "I
could have killed that thing with my beamer," Jasar said, "but not
before it had managed a chew at me. And I'd just as soon not use energy anyway,
not yet. They don't seem to know that we're here, and the longer we can keep it
that way, the better."
    After
several long minutes of steady plodding Jack felt impelled to make the point
that they were no longer heading in the direction