RyRelee activated his communicator. It was a compact device—both for portability and to disguise it as no more than an incomprehensible objet d’art to an aboriginal mind—but its range was sufficient to reach the orbiting Coran starship.
“I have destroyed the phile,” the emissary reported. “Fortunately, it was male. Stand by to receive transmission of chromosomal data.”
After an unpleasant interval, the artificial voice of the Cora—presumably—sounded from the communicator: “You have done splendidly, RyRelee. Are you now prepared to reach the nearest rendezvous point for recovery?”
“There remain a few matters to pursue,” RyRelee stated. “I wish to make certain that neither the phile’s appearance nor my intrusion here has resulted in any cultural contamination. It will be necessary to make subtle inquiries, perhaps blank out memories in certain instances, in order to establish to these primitives that any unnatural phenomena they may have witnessed were merely the actions of their gods.”
“How much time do you require?”
“Ten planetary days should be sufficient.”
“How is your personal situation at present?”
“I am in some danger. These primitives are inclined to unexpected violence. Also the ultraviolet radiation here is of greater intensity than my suit can safely screen out. Ten more days is the maximum.”
“If there is danger, we can recover you in much less time.”
“I accept the risks.”
“Your courage has been noted, emissary. Good luck.”
RyRelee deactivated the communicator, then hissed with pleasure—however grotesque the sound was to his ears. In ten days the phile would either be safely cared for in the Emperor’s animal pens, or else securely laired in some undiscovered sector of the primitives’ city. Either way, the only two natives who posed any real threat to the emissary’s project would be long dead by the time RyRelee boarded the Coran shuttlecraft for home.
Chapter Eighteen
The phile killed the rat without conscious awareness—a simple lethal reflex that struck out at a living creature within its power to kill. It had already devoured most of the rat before its hunger was appeased sufficiently to permit the phile to consider its tiny prey. Not a kill worth noting by any means, but food should never be taken for granted, even on this world where prey was so abundant and so easily taken.
That might be the explanation. They expected the phile to become complacent; they intended to lull the phile into a false sense of security because the creatures of this world were so pitifully easy to kill. No matter. They had shown their hand—the masters who had devised this game—and the phile would not be fooled so easily now.
Its instincts had been correct. The thin, quick biped—the one that had been presented to the phile before its escape from the wheeled cage—that one was its primary adversary. The phile had sensed their kinship even then, and it knew now that the other killer had recognized this as well. It resembled the other bipeds superficially, but plainly this one was a breed apart—like the phile, a creature bred for the art of killing.
The sudden appearance of their common master was the final proof. His physical disguise had confused the phile only for a moment, for there was no mistaking his scent—nor his terror at their mutual recognition when the phile touched his aura.
This had been a surprise to the phile, but as it considered the matter now, the gamemaster’s presence should have been anticipated. The phile had erred in assuming that it had escaped, when in reality all that had happened here on this world had been the prelude to a complicated game designed to be played without the confines of a physical arena. No matter. The phile had been well trained. Unlike its wild counterparts, this phile had been bred for blood sports. Clearly its opponent, who resembled the native bipeds of this world, had been similarly bred and trained.
The destruction of its brood infuriated the phile, but now it realized that this atrocity had only been intended to goad it out of hiding and back into the blood game. Nonetheless, there must be vengeance for this—payment in kind for the slaughter of its offspring. And the gamemaster—he had chosen to enter the game as a participant; this was a bold move and deserved respect, but the master above all others must be killed. He was armed with concealed energy weapons, so his death must be carefully arranged.