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Neal Asher - The Gabble and Other Stories

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Neal Asher The Gabble and Other Stories

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What has six arms, a large beak, looks like a pyramid, has more eyes than youd expect and talks nonsense? If you dont know the answer to that, then you should and you havent been reading Neal Asher (see point 1) - Jon Courtenay Grimwood. In the eight years since his first full-length novel, Gridlinked was published by Pan Macmillan, Neal Asher has firmly established himself as one of the leading British writers of Science Fiction, and his novels are now translated in many languages. Most of his stories are set in a galactic future-scape called The Polity, and with this collection of marvellously inventive and action-packed short stories, he takes us further into the manifold diversities of that amazing universe. No one does monsters better than Neal Asher, so be prepared to revisit the lives and lifestyles of such favourites as the gabbleduck and the hooder, to savour alien poisons, the walking dead, the Sea of Death, and the putrefactor symbiont.

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The Gabble and Other Stories By Neal Asher Scanned Proofed By - photo 1The Gabble and Other Stories By Neal Asher Scanned Proofed By - photo 2


* * * *

The Gabble

and Other Stories

By Neal Asher

Scanned & Proofed By MadMaxAU

* * * *


Contents


* * * *


Softly Spoke the Gabbleduck


Lost in some perverse fantasy, Tameera lovingly inspected the displays of her Optek rifle. For me, what happened next proceeded with the unstoppable nightmare slowness of an accident. She brought the butt of the rifle up to her shoulder, took careful aim, and squeezed off a single shot. One of the sheq slammed back against a rock face, then tumbled down through vegetation to land in the white water of a stream.


Some creatures seem to attain the status of myth even though proven to be little different from other apparently prosaic species. On Earth, the lion contends with the unicorn, the wise old elephant never forgets, and gentle whales sing haunting ballads in the deeps. It stems from anthropomorphism, is fed by both truth and lies, and, over time, firmly imbeds itself in human culture. On Myral, where I had spent the last ten years, only a little of such status attached to the largest autochthon not surprising for a creature whose name is a contraction of shit-eating quadruped. But rumors of something else in the wilderness, something that had no right to be there, had really set the myth-engines of the human mind into motion, and brought hunters to this world.


There was no sign of any sheq on the way out over the narrow vegetation-cloaked mounts. They only put in an appearance after I finally moored my blimp to a peak, above a horizontal slab on which blister tents could be pitched. My passengers noticed straight away that the slab had been used many times before, and that my mooring was an iron ring long set into the rock, but then, campsites were a rarity amid the steep slopes, cliffs, and streams of this area. It wasnt a place humans were built for. Sheq country.


Soon after he disembarked, Tholan went over to the edge to try out one of his disposable vidcams. The cam itself was about the size of his forefinger, and he was pointing it out over the terrain while inspecting a palm com he held in his other hand. He had unloaded a whole case of these cams, which he intended to position in likely locations, or dangle into mist pockets on a line a hunters additional eyes. He called me over. Tameera and Anders followed.


There. He nodded downward.


A seven of sheq was making its way across the impossible terrain finding handholds amid the lush vertical vegetation and traveling with the assurance of spiders on a wall. They were disconcertingly simian, about the size of a man, and quadrupedal each limb jointed like a human arm, but ending in hands bearing eight long prehensile fingers. Their heads, though, were anything but simian, being small, insectile, like the head of a mosquito, but with two wide trumpet-like proboscises.


They wont be a problem, will they? Tholans sister, Tameera, asked.


She was the most xenophobic, Id decided, but then, such phobia made little difference to their sport: the aliens they sought out usually being the Im gonna chew off the top of your head and suck out your brains variety.


No so long as we leave them alone, said Tholan. Using his thumb on the side controls of his palm com, he increased the cameras magnification, switching it to infrared, then ultrasound imaging.


I didnt load anything, said Anders, Tholans PA. Are they herbivores?


Omnivores, I told her. They eat some of that vegetation you see and supplement their diet with rock conch and octupal.


Rock conch and octupal indeed, said Anders.


I pointed to the conch-like molluscs clinging to the wide leaves below the slab.


Anders nodded, then said, Octupal?


Like it sounds: something like an octopus, lives in pools, but can drag itself overland when required. I glanced at Tameera and added, None of them bigger than your hand.


I hadnt fathomed this trio yet. Brother and sister hunted together, relied on each other, yet seemed to hate each other. Anders, who I at first thought Tholan was screwing, really did just organize things for him. Perhaps I should have figured them out before agreeing to being hired, then Tameera would never have taken the shot she then took.


The hot chemical smell from the rifle filled the unbreathable air. I guessed they used primitive projectile weapons of this kind to make their hunts more sporting. I didnt know how to react. Tholan stepped forward and pushed down the barrel of her weapon before she could kill another of the creatures.


That was stupid, he said.


Do they frighten you? she asked coquettishly.


I reached up and checked that my throat plug was still in place, for I felt breathless, but it was still bleeding oxygen into my bronchus. To say that I now had a bad feeling about all this would have been an understatement.


You know that as well as putting us all in danger, she just committed a crime, I said conversationally, as Tholan stepped away from his sister.


Crime? he asked.


She just killed a C-grade sentient. If the Warden AI finds out and can prove she knew before she pulled the trigger, then shes dead. But thats not the main problem now. I eyed the sheq seven, now six. They seemed to be confused about the cause of their loss. Hopefully they wont attack, but itll be an idea to keep watch.


He stared at me, shoved his cam into his pocket. I turned away and headed back. Why had I agreed to bring these bored aristos out here to hunt for Myrals mythic gabbleduck? Money. Those who have enough to live comfortably greatly underestimate it as a source of motivation. Tholan was paying enough for me to pay off all I owed on my blimp, and prevent a particular shark from paying me a visit to collect interest by way of involuntarily donated organs. It would also be enough for me to upgrade my apartment in the citadel, so I could rent it while I went out to look at this world. Id had many of the available cerebral loads and knew much about Myrals environment, but that wasnt the same as experiencing it. There was still much for me to learn, to know. Though I was certain that the chances of my finding a gabbleducka creature from a planet light-centuries awayanywhere on Myral, were lower than the sole of my boot.


She only did that to get attention, said Anders at my shoulder.


Well, lets hope she didnt succeed too well! I replied. I looked up at my blimp, and considered the prospect of escaping this trio and bedding down for the night. Certainly we would be getting nothing more done today, what with the blue giant sun gnawing the edge of the world as it went down.


You have to excuse her. Shes over-compensating for a father who ignored her for the first twenty years of her life.


Anders had been coming on to me right from the start and I wondered just what sort of rich bitch game she was playing, though to find out, I would have to let my guard down, and that I had no intention of doing. She was too much: too attractive, too intelligent, and just being in her presence set things jumping around in my stomach. She would destroy me.


I dont have to excuse her, I said. I just have to tolerate her.


With that, I headed to the alloy ladder extending down from the blimp cabin.


Why are they called shit-eaters? she asked, falling into step beside me. Obviously shed heard where the name sheq came from.


As well as the rock conch and octupal, they eat each others shit running it through a second intestinal tract.

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