Sandcats of Rhyl Read Online Free PDF Page A

silent duel continued. Nightwind knew Richards didn’t dare let up on the pressure or Heuser would crush his hand. And the small man seemed capable of increasing the pressure to any level he desired. He was showing no signs of exertion.
    Heuser innocently said, “You’re sweating. Doesn’t seem that hot in here to me,” as he released the desert rat’s hand.
    Richards rubbed his palm against the gray overall he wore. A look of respect replaced the scorn of a few minutes earlier. “Hard to keep thermostats working around here. Dust gets into everything. Damn stuff. A real shame you folks had to come this month. In a couple, three months the winds will’ve died down to nothing. Be summer then and hotter than the core of a super nova. Wind, dust, sun. Take your pick.”
    “What’s the P.R. stand for in your name?” asked Heuser.
    “Just initials,” he answered coughing a little. “Nothing more. What can I do for you?”
    “Tell me what the initials stand for,” prodded Heuser, intent on his quest for useless knowledge.
    Richards rubbed his hand again, then said weakly, “Patton Rommel.”
    Nightwind smiled but had the grace not to laugh. “Do you live up to the names? You don’t seem to be built like a tank, so how are you on the desert?”
    “None finer!”
    “We’re looking for someone to take us into the deep erg. A good ways into the boondocks. Think you could guide us in and back?”
    Richards scratched his chin. “For a price, I might be willin'. But it all depends on where. No pile of credits is going to make me go out to some places on this world. Born and raised on Rhyl, I was. I know it better’n most of the wet-worlders that drift in here. And I know how far to press my luck with the desert.”
    Nightwind ambled over to a topographical three-dimensional map and looked at it. Mentally recreating the sketchy map found in Dr. Alfen’s diary, he searched until he found the rocky spires marking their destination. His finger stabbed out with finality. “There. This spot marked Devil’s Fang.” Nightwind looked over his shoulder at Richards. The man propped himself against a dusty corner of the counter and was attacking his chin with a ferocity that made Nightwind wonder if the man had dry skin or was intent on ripping his own flesh from his bones.
    “That’s a rough area, mister. Right rough. Close to eight hundred kilometers into the nastiest desert around. Not only these filthy dust storms all the time but sandcats out there in the deep desert. Yeah, that’s a right dangerous trip you’re thinkin’ on.”
    “Now that the sales pitch is over, what’s your rate to take us there? Fully outfitted, so we have a good chance of getting back in one piece and un-sandblasted.”
    Richards smiled, his face seeming to crack with the strain. “Ten thousand a day, full equipment, no guarantee about getting sandblasted. You take your chances like everybody else on this planet.”
    Nightwind nodded slightly. The price was steep but probably fair for a planet like Rhyl which could turn into a death trap for the inexperienced. Nightwind made the small hand signal to Heuser indicating he agreed but wanted to dicker some more.
    “How long would we be traveling?” Heuser asked. “That’s a lot of my money you’re asking.”
    “Travel a hundred, maybe two hundred klicks a day depending…”
    “Depending on what?”
    “The wind, man, the wind! It
blows
here, if you hadn’t already noticed. We go to ground when it kicks up over two hundred kilometers an hour. Sand driven at that speed’ll cut right through your bones and knock an aircar spinning, no matter what kind of gyros you have. And I have the best, count on it. I also got the force dome to set up. Nothing gets through that, even at three hundred kilometers per hour. Above that, well, some sand’ll leak in.”
    Nightwind chewed his lower lip and tasted dust again. They would definitely need the force dome. It would withstand the fiercest winds