Free Bloodhype by Alan Dean Foster Page A

“but where are we going?”
    Parquit looked back over a mailed shoulder. “Inside the vault, of course. What kind of stimuli did you think I had in mind?”
    Carmot had not moved. “I hardly think that is wise, Commander.”
    “Perhaps. But useful, certainly.” Parquit looked the small scientist over carefully. “Is it possible the nye have a coward in their midst?”
    Carmot flushed. “A heightened instinct for preservation in the face of death is not cowardice.”
    “Very facile. I will not force you.”
    “Then of course I must come,” said Carmot.
     
    The clumsy armored suits held their speed to a crawl. Designed for use in the weightless vacuum of space, they were terribly awkward on land. In ordering the use of the bulky suits, Parquit privately doubted that they would afford much in the way of protection should the creature decide to go on another rampage. If it was capable of further rampaging, he reminded himself. Amostom’s analysis left an uncomfortably large amount of room for disarming speculation.
    Psychologically, however, the armor was valuable for such as the Observer-First. For a race of reptiles equipped with their own body armor by nature, armor of all types exerted an almost religious appeal.
    Within the vault, the restored lighting (cut out when the emergency power was cut on) was sharp. Colors, shadows, even the walls showed grayish in the even lighting. The jagged debris of the creature’s interspace ellipsoid lay strewn about the room, twisted and torn like so much parchment.
    The enigma
in vivo
rested in the center of the room. A huge, silent mountain of ebony opalescence and awesome power. It represented a universe of unanswered questions.
    Together with a heavily armed escort, which was present primarily for psychological effect, a small group of volunteer scientists accompanied the three.
    A single soldier preceded the small party. He walked slowly up to the unmoving hulk. A few nye held their breath. The soldier walked slowly around the base of the creature, tapping it at various points with the stock of his powerifle. After several minutes of this he flicked his tail at the waiting party.
    A low sussuration, part relief and part burgeoning curiosity, began to emanate from the group of scientists as they spread through the vault. The atmosphere seemed to grow ten degrees warmer. Two were already deep in a heated discussion by the base of the melted watertight door.
    Others were soon plying about the edge of the monster. Still others were pouring over the shredded remnants of the transportation ellipsoid that lay scattered about the vault.
    Parquit still found it difficult to think of the mountain-quiet mass as alive in any sense of the word. Its one brief display of insensate violence and explosive motion had taken on the aspect of a bad dream, was receding into memory.
    He passed one elderly observer calmly dictating notes into his belt recorder. The oldster was examining a fused lump of metal which lay close to the base of the creature. It was easy enough to identify—a partially digested arm and part of a shoulder protruded from the metal. The lump was the remains of one of the little inspection-repair scooters that had carried the nye who were to release the creature from its metal shell—and the remains of the scooter operator.
    The Commander spotted Arris studying the point where the black hill touched the floor, He strolled over and the xenobiologist waved in greeting.
    “Initial deductions?” Parquit asked smoothly.
    “I am still trying to adjust to the fact that this is indeed a living thing and not a mountain of inorganic sludge, Commander.” The scientist tapped the black substance with a clawed foot. “I find it difficult to relate to something so enormous on any kind of personal level.”
    “A feeling we all share. Still, I could do with some first impressions.”
    “Well, if Amostom’s instruments
are
correct, then we can assume the thing capable of unknown