“They’re obviously a competing group,” said McVane. “A rival clan, or nation, or political party. A rival world, or association of worlds. The voice that spoke to me said the Pistach aren’t the only ones. This implies we’re being given a choice between the way the Pistach are shoving us and something else. They want to make a deal.”
“For what?” breathed Briess from the hatch leading into the truck body. “Hunting rights?”
“Something like that,” admitted McVane. “We could tolerate that. Hell, China’s got enough surplus people to keep ‘em busy for a few thousand years. If their offer’s good enough.”
“You don’t know how many ofthem there are,” said Briess, through a grilled hatch behind the seat. “Or how much and how often they eat. You don’t know if they have a preference in taste. Like Europeans, or Americans.”
“I doubt we taste any different,” grunted McVane. “If they preferred light meat, they’d be talking to somebody besides us.”
“How long until?” asked Briess.
McVane consulted the illuminated dial of his watch. “Ten minutes. I didn’t allow much extra time. It’s boring to sit around waiting for stuff to happen.”
“Crack that window so we can hear,” said Dink. “Get a little fresh air in here.”
“Keep it closed,” barked McVane. “Turn on the recirculating air conditioner if you have to, but keep everything closed. Physically, we’re probably no match for these creatures, and it’s remotely possible this is a trap . . .”
“I thought you said it would be perfectly safe!” erupted Dink.
“I said a trap was remotely possible, Dinklemier. Calm down. If you want to listen, turn on the exterior mikes.”
The mikes were turned on to admit a soothing murmur of light wind, the rustling of dried leaves, the flap-flap of a strap of harness hanging on the fence, the flutter of a tattered white towel that was inexplicably clipped to the washline beside the house.
“What’s that doing there?” asked McVane, nodding at the towel. “I thought the place was abandoned.”
“It’s meant to look abandoned,” Briess corrected him. “The towel means there was nothing dangerous here when the crew looked the place over shortly after sunset. The whole area has been under surveillance from across the valley since then.”
They sat. “Did you locate the intermediary’s kids?” McVane asked.
Dink grunted. “They’re being watched. We can pick them up any time. The same with the husband. We can pick him up any time. He doesn’t know where his wife is.”
“Neither do the children,” said Briess. “But the boy is willing to try and find out. Seems he’s got a girlfriend who likes money.”
“Don’t they all,” murmured McVane. The rustling and flapping went on as the minutes passed, ten, twelve, fifteen.
“They’re late,” said McVane.
“On the contrary,” said a voice through the speaker. “We arrived here when you did.”
Those in the truck straightened up and peered in all directions. There was nothing visible.
“Show yourselves,” said McVane.
“Rather not,” said the voice in a toneless, mechanical voice. “Rather just do our business, get on with our lives, you know. Too much formality stifles us, doesn’t it you? Warriors and hunters don’t need it.”
“You are a … warrior race,” said Briess, through the inside microphone.
“Oh, indeed.”
“You speak English?”
“We’re speaking through a translator. We buy them from the Pistach. Good manufacturers, the Pistach. Stodgy as all get-out, everything just so, but perfectionists do make good merchandise.”
“They say they’re here to help us,” offered McVane. “Isn’t that true?”
“Well, help is as help is. If you do it their way, you’ll learn to get rid of some of what they call your native barbarism, you’ll become more civilized, which is also what they call it, and you’ll keep everybody reasonably happy by eliminating a lot of what makes life interesting. Maybe that’s help. For us, it’d be deadly dull. We’re highly selfish and individualistic. We revel in the unexpected. We lust after the hunt. We’ve given you a looking-over. We think you’re more like us than you are like them.”
“And?” breathed Briess.
“Our view is that those who sign up for somebody’s free course in social engineering ought to have a choice. If you sign up with us, we make a deal. We get to hunt on this planet. We’ll set a game limit that won’t overstress the population, though right at first you’ll need a hell of a lot of weeding out. We can use our young ones for that. You know kids. Always hungry.”