Then, at the foot of the platform, on the floor, where he had not seen it before, his attention so taken with the torches, the Pons, the beast, he saw some objects, gathered together.
Brenner cried out with sorrow.
They were limbs, broken and torn, and a part of a torso, an arm here, a foot there.
The floor was dark with stains beneath them.
Brenner, tears in his eyes, looked up with fury at the beast.
The Pons had doubtless done the best they could. How they had managed to collect, and at what risk, even so many of the remains was remarkable. There was no mistaking parts of the body of his friend, those that were here. He recognized a scar on an arm, the watch on a wrist. The head was gone.
The Pons, in their love, and loyalty, had gathered these things together, and brought them here, and, to the extent that they were capable of such things, had put them here, in state. But above them, on its platform, like a god, was the beast, the totem itself.
“Kill, kill,” whispered the Pons.
Of course, thought Brenner. They cannot harm the totem themselves, even if they had the capability of doing so. It is the totem. It is I who must do this. But who better than I, whose friend has been taken from him by this fiend? Who else would I, in suitable vengeance, permit to perform this act? But how can I kill such a thing?
“I hate you!” cried Brenner, in tears, at the beast.
It looked down upon him, but did not move.
It could leave this place, thought Brenner. There is nothing, really, to hold it here. It could kill us all, breaking us with the blows of its paws, tearing us in two with those jaws.
Brenner looked at the makeshift spear, the pointed stick, he held. A hundred men, Rodriguez had told him, were pitted against such beasts in the arenas of Megara.
He would have to climb to the platform, even to reach the beast.
Then, from somewhere behind him, Brenner heard the voice of a Pon:
We love you, father.
Forgive us, father, for what we will do.
This was answered, or followed, by another Pon:
We will be contrite!
Show us forbearance!
Be kind to us!
Cherish us!
Protect us!
We will refrain from touching the soft ones!
We beg your forgiveness, father, for what we will do.
A third voice then called out:
Forgive us, father.
Love us!
Cherish us!
Protect us!
After a time another voice, high-pitched, called out:
Oh, I could get me in.
I could lay them waste.
But I will not do so,
for they are my children.
I am the father.
Brenner then looked down, to his right. The git keeper was there. Gently, the git keeper removed the makeshift spear from Brenner’s hands. Then he turned about and, from a pillow, carried by another Pon, removed the shining brass tube. It had been opened. The rifle was freed. He put it in Brenner’s hands. Brenner looked down at it, stunned. The weapon was ready. He was sure of it. He could even see the particular alignment of switches. He was sure, as he now examined it, that they were what he had once seen when Rodriguez had armed the rifle. Somehow, he was sure they would be. The safety, too, doubtless, had been released. Brenner slid back the bolt a little, looking in the breach, then let the bolt move back, automatically. One of the charges, cylinderlike, was in place, its red-capped end forward. The trigger, within its guard, was in evidence, the guard having descended from the barrel. At this distance, standing below the platform, looking up, Brenner could not miss.
The beast was cleaning itself, licking at the fur on its left shoulder.
Brenner grasped the weapon firmly.
The beast looked down at Brenner. It stopped grooming itself.
Brenner lifted the weapon.
The beast’s long tail lashed a little, moving back and forth, and then was still.
Thanks to the gods of ten worlds, thought Brenner, echoing a phrase of Rodriguez’, that it does not understand this thing, that it does not understand what it can do, that it does not know the danger in which it stands.
With this, I can kill it.
He steadied the weapon, aiming it carefully upward, at the center of the beast’s chest.
The beast then, oddly, as it sat there, not really moving much, lifted, and straightened, its body. In that moment it seemed quite vital. It now held its body as might have an animal in its youth or prime. It did not seem old then. It was almost as