The Rhino Score (7)

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I picked up Grabsy a few hours later. He had chosen a small piece of wreckage to attach himself to, figuring the authorities would have better things to do than chase down every piece of debris from the satellite meltdown. He spent a few minutes inflating his lungs before talking to me.

"I'm getting tired of orbital work," Grabsy complained. "My joints hurt more than they used to. Also, blood stains never really come out."

"But you're so good at it," I said. "Everything went smoothly, I trust?"

"Oh, sure," said Grabsy. "I threw a cable loop around the freighter cabin. When you guys told them to start reeling out, the loop cut the ship in half. The guys in the ship weren't suited up; they went for a vacuum swim in a hurry."

"What about the guys screwing with the satellite controls?" I asked.

"Yeah, well," Grabsy replied noncommittally. "They weren't armed, and suit containment ain't what it used to be."

"I don't suppose you found anything of value on the ship?" I asked.

"They had it stripped down for weight," Grabsy told me. "I guess they wanted to save their delta-V for precious objects."

I didn't ask if Grabsy found the body of McMillan. First, I had no idea what McMillan looked like. Second, I figured there was no way he could have died so easily, or even been on that ship. Guys like Swami and McMillan aren't like the rest of us. They think three moves ahead of the furthest move we can think of. I figure when one of those two dies, they'll have the nearest star rigged to go nova out of spite.

We dropped back down to Tierra Salvador and snuck into the junkyard. Lopez and the goons had assembled there with a big pile of gear. They also had the cash machine containing Swam1. It had obviously been torn out of the bank's wall and carried to the junkyard by hand. "Oh, hi!" said Lopez, wiring the bank machine up to a power lead. "I figured this would make meetings simpler."

We went through the haul. Lopez had salvaged the static-floor gizmo. There was also a pile of blasters, stun grenades, the microlite gliders, a few pieces of body armor, considerable amounts of cash, some explosives, a drilling rig, cutting torches, comm units and a buzzing grey box. Lopez scratched his ears as he played with this last item.

"Well," he said uncertainly, "it's one of two things."

"Shoot," I said.

"It might be a white-noise generator."

"It's very soothing," I admitted.

"Or it could generate a powerful enough electromagnetic pulse to shut down half the planet."

"I feel it is very important," I told Lopez, "to further narrow these options."

"Tricky," said Lopez.

"Why's that?"

"It's booby-trapped."

"Lopez," I said exasperatedly, "if it were a white noise generator, would it be booby-trapped?"

"Improbable," Lopez admitted.

"I'm going to call it an EMP," I said. "If we get into serious hot water, it'll be nice to know we can reduce Tierra Salvador to a Stone Age civilization."

"Or soothe it to sleep," grumbed Lopez, but not very loudly.

Swam1 booted back up. "Hello, fellows," he said. "I take it your mission was successful."

"Thieving was thwarted; loot was had," I replied.

"Good," said Swam1. "Now it's time to initiate our own plan."

"Not so fast," I said. "I'm sick of all the mystery. Swami does this all the time; he holds back what he knows so he can seem smarter than everybody else."

"He *is* smarter than everybody else." Swam1 was very matter-of-fact about it.

"That's beside the point," I argued. "How come McMillan's plan would have failed?"

"It would have succeeded in getting Khmamgdan's statue out of the museum," Swam1 said. "It would not have succeeded, however, in the sense that before the thieves could leave the system, Khmamgdan and his fellow Gods would return and destroy anybody associated with the theft."

"Now just hold on a second," Lopez protested. "You're saying the Mestazi Gods are real?"

"And the Chulko Gods too," replied Swam1. "Only they're not really Gods, just a very powerful and ancient race of mercenaries. They're called the Hul. The Swanturni had dealings with them; they were featured in some of the paintings back on Pestle."

"Oh," I said, feeling stupid.

"The Hul enter into compacts with races," he said. "They'll fight for any civilization for a price. The price is steep, but the contract lasts forever, until either that group of Hul or the client race are gone. When the Mestazi invaded Tierra Salvador, they contracted with some Hul to fight for them. The Chulkos had their own group of Hul as well, but the Mestazi bunch killed them. With the Mestazi in ascendance, the Hul chose to leave – but they left behind a device to warn them if the Mestazi needed help again."

"The Horn of Khmamgdan!" said Lopez, snapping his fingers.

"Yes," said Swam1. "There's a reason it's made of Javanite. I tapped in to an orbital broad-spectrum energy analyzer and pointed it back at the planet. There's a constant signal coming out of the horn. It's on a very subtle trans-space frequency, but the carrier wave has a lot of power behind it. The Hul could be halfway across the galaxy, but if that horn gets messed with, they'll know – and they'll come back."

"So what you're saying is this," summarized Grabsy in an acid tone. "These two geniuses here set out to steal something that, if stolen, will result in an all-powerful ancient race returning to destroy the thieves. And since the object itself gives off a signal, there's no way to hide or run. Do I have that right?"

"Yes, succinctly put," said Swam1.

"Okay, it's been fun, chums," said Grabsy. "Thanks for getting me out of stir and all, but honestly I'm sick of you people and I'd rather be on a luxury planet, setting things on fire. If you could just drop me at the nearest system that has a yellow sun and a pornomat…"

"Just a moment," interrupted Swam1. "A perfectly achievable plan exists for getting the horn, Hul or no Hul."

"Does it involve risk?" asked Grabsy.

"Yes," replied Swam1.

Grabsy frowned. "High risk?" he asked.

"Elevated," Swam1 temporized.

"How elevated?" Grabsy wanted to know.

"Tell him the odds to the third decimal place once he's had a chance to wash the alluvial matter out of his labia," Lopez suggested.

"Sure," I added. "I'm sure there's lots of risk-free desk-job opportunities for the criminally-minded."

"Supposing you jokers shut it," Grabsy said heatedly, "and you let Swam1 explain a little more about the risky parts of this plan of his?"

"Okay," said Swam1. "First, you're going to seize the museum. You'll go in during the daytime, take out the guards, and secure the perimeter."

"Yeah, okay, just a second," said Lopez. "Won't that, you know, bring down the authorities and police and crap like that?"

"Oh, yes," said Swam1. "That's exactly what we want."