Behind the desert the Peaks framed a sky that would be a soft lavender when the sun rose. It was the end of the dry season and even in the dark of night the heat was stifling. The strange puff bush blossoms like plumps of cotton wool hung limp. It was the season where nothing hurried that wished to live, and certainly not in the searing desert. But it was there where a beast ran. It had come from the Peaks country that lay behind it, into desert fringes, and it was now out into true desert. But it had reasons.

Just within the boundaries of the great desert and jagged rocky mountain area humans called the Big Blue, a lame frawn ran desperately. It was a strong animal but it was starting to stagger. Its hoof, split by a stone, slowed it, but behind the reeling beast terror came scrabbling, so the frawn ignored the pain. It could not ignore the need for water. But in this place there was none and the animal's weakness grew. If it ran hard it could leave the hunters far behind, but they traveled steadily. When the frawn stopped to rest they closed in again. At last it could run no longer, every part of it craved water. Its strength drained away and it sank to its haunches. It would fight.

But the horror that followed was too great and it stood again to stagger on. The hunters did not care. They had little but the instinct to follow and kill. They would do one relentlessly until they could do the other. How long the hunt continued did not concern them. They flowed over the barren lands, crossed dry watercourses, and clicked past dry brush. They hunted and nothing would turn them from the hunt.

Ahead the frawn suddenly stopped. It staggered, sank slowly to the ground, and stretched out. Too little water, heat too great to bear, so far to run and the heart had given up. The frawn died mercifully as the first of the hunters reached it. But the flesh was still warm. The blood still flowed. They feasted, though the feast would have been more to their taste had the flesh been yet living.

On a great ship sailing the depths of space and heading for the planet on which the frawn had run the hopeless race, one worked. Her head was down as she concentrated. Orphaned niece of the two scientists who led the crew of the ship, she was a hard worker and just now she was fascinated by what she did.

Tani was splicing genes in her small laboratory when her uncle Brion entered. He peered over her shoulder, then smiled approvingly.

"Good, we need more meerkats. They're a clan animal." His gaze dropped to the tiny dice lying on the gene chart and his eyebrows rose. "What are these for, my dear?"

Tani giggled happily. "Your fault, Uncle Brion. You said that genes combine at random, so I've been throwing the dice and splicing that combination where it's viable." She enjoyed creating meerkats, anyway. Meerkats were a type of mongoose and killers of snakes among other small prey they favored. A meerkat's looks were its fortune in the human world. They were long and slender-bodied. A shape akin to that of a mink. But the meerkat had a yellowish-colored rougher fur and their eyes were large, with the rings of dark fur about them making the eyes look larger still. Humans were programmed to react favorably to that large-eyed look. Meerkats lived in affectionate family groups, stood up often on the hindlegs to scan territory, and would fight only if pressed. However, if they must fight, they do so effectively and as a group. All traits that attracted humans, and had delighted Tani.

Her uncle grinned cheerfully back at her. "Whatever works, sweetheart. But don't let Jarro see you doing that. The idea would give him a heart attack." He noticed the faint shadow flit over her face and said nothing. Their colleague was a pompous little stuffed shirt who didn't get along too well with anyone on the ship and Brion had an idea the man was being especially hard on Tani.

He hid a sigh. It was understandable. Jarro had worked hard for his qualifications and saw the inclusion of Brion's young part-qualified niece as unfair. As well Jarro's people had been first-in settlers on Ishan. Being from a first-in family gave status normally but now that planet, with Terra, and much that had been Terran, were gone. Like many others left stranded by the deaths of their home worlds, he suffered.

He patted Tani's shoulder. "Don't work too hard. We land on Arzor in another few hours."

"I won't, Uncle Brion. I just want to get this last pair of meerkats started in the embryo tanks."

Brion studied the list beside her and nodded. "That's good. Three more females and four males. With the genetic material from the other meerkats on Arzor we can build a viable gene pool again." He smiled down at Tani. "That's another species we've taken back from Xik destruction."

Tani's voice trembled. "I know, but we lost so many. Even tracing the surviving Beast Master teams, and some of the Beast Masters are just selfish." Her voice broke into a wail. "That one on Fremlyn who wouldn't let us take his animals or even take samples from them. He said it would distress them. And Marten took his side."

"I know. But Marten's gone and we did get the samples. Finish up what you're doing. Just think. Once we touch down we'll be on Arzor at least three months. You can fly Mandy and the coyotes will have desert to run in." He smiled down at the head bent in sudden industry. Sometimes he wondered if they hadn't been wrong to keep the girl. He left the laboratory wondering about that. His sister had been Irish as he was. Well, unmixed blood anyhow, even if the last three generations had been lived in Arizona.

But Tani's father, Bright Sky, had been of unmixed blood as well. Cheyenne from a long line of warriors, and medicine men who had not all been fakes. He'd been chosen as a Beast Master just after the birth of Tani and a year after his marriage to Brion's sister. Alisha had loved him and accepted his odd calling. She'd accepted his beast team as part of him, but it had been Tani with whom the team bonded, as well as with their human leader.

The child had known the team from her earliest days. She'd rolled on the ground with the two wolves, teased the African eagle, and romped with the mongoose pair. Then, in one night of attack and defeat as the Beast Master team attempted to retake a world from the Xik invaders, all were gone. Team, husband and father, and half of Alisha and Tani's world.

Tani had been five. Too young to understand the reasons that the Terran High Command had used up men so recklessly. Her mother had understood, but in grief and pain akin to madness she'd turned her back. Being a Beast Master and fighting, using one's animals for that war, was bad. From that it had been a small step to a slow warping of Alisha's truth. Only her loved husband, Bright Sky, had been a good Beast Master. The others were not. They wasted their animals, threw away the gifts they had been given. Alisha had been killed two years later in a Xik breakthrough raid on Terra. She'd been a medic and had died still trying to save lives. Brion wasn't sure how much of Alisha's twisted teaching Tani remembered, or had accepted.

The girl was both her parents. She had the black hair and animal-empathic abilities of her father, Bright Sky, and from Alisha, the eyes changing from green to gray and fierce love of life. She wasn't pretty, except to Brion and his wife, Kady, who loved her.

Brion shrugged. His niece was healthy, clever, and hardworking. He could hardly ask for more. It had been just under twelve years since Alisha had died. That reminded him. He headed for his office. Tani would be nineteen a few days after they landed. He must discuss a suitable present for her with Kady. He'd keep that in mind as he reviewed the planet they'd reach very soon.

He sat back in his cabin, reviewing the Arzor tapes. One Beast Master had settled here, a Navajo named Storm. Hosteen Storm. Judging from the dates, High Command had added later material as it came to hand. The man was stepson to Brad Quade, a descendant of one of the First Ship families. Quade had large holdings in the Basin, one of the most fertile ranching areas. Storm's mother had died on Arzor, leaving a son by Quade, a boy named Logan who was the Beast Master's half-brother. Storm had taken his team to Arzor with him. An African eagle, two meerkats, and a dune cat. He eyed the latter item thoughtfully. They had DNA from several of those, but more would help widen the gene pool.

He just hoped this man wouldn't be as difficult as the Beast Master on Fremlyn. The Beast Master there had refused to allow Brion to take samples unless they provided mates for his remaining team. Brion had refused, the idea was unacceptable. A series of new animals spreading out into a world where they had not evolved could be an ecological disaster. A pity Marten had taken the man's side. They'd obtained samples by court order, one of the animals had been injured, it had subsequently died, and Marten had quit.

He'd argued they could have given the Beast Master infertile mates for his beasts. At least the animals would have company. Ridiculous, of course. The Ark wasn't traveling between planets to provide a lonely-hearts service for animals. It was there to preserve everything it could of Terran species. To collect samples where they could be found. Marten had stayed with the Ark for several weeks while he tried to convince them to at least provide infertile mates for the Beast Master team. He'd failed. Brion had arranged to have the animals of the team darted and samples taken. He'd returned to Marten's anger and a formal resignation slapped down on Brion's desk. Brion had regretted his inflexibility later on. They could have escaped all the problems if he'd only agreed to the infertile mates. He wouldn't make that mistake again if only this Beast Master would be sensible and cooperative in return.

Brion ran the tapes a second time, making notes as he slowed and reread portions of the information. Kady entered to lean over his shoulder reading what he was writing.

He looked up at her. "Have we talked to the Government yet?"

"I made contact an hour ago."

"And?"

The news wouldn't please him, Kady knew. "They say that there is nothing in their laws to force a Beast Master to allow his team to be used as specimens. If Beast Master Storm refuses, then we must persuade him or do without samples."

She saw his face cloud with anger and laid a hand on his arm. "Brion, don't lose your temper with them. It will make things worse. It was Marten who's caused this." Her voice overrode his angry questions. "I'll tell you, just listen. He sent Arzor a message, telling them that on Fremlyn you'd taken genetic samples by force and injured a team animal that died after we left. Fremlyn saw those beasts as one of their last links with Earth. The authorities there are furious. I had a personal message from Marten, too. He's been given a huge grant and retained to clone and gene-splice a new pool of the team beasts. The Government is setting aside a large island as a reservation for them."

Brion smiled sourly. "So he's done well for himself, and left us wading in the mud he's thrown."

"And mud sticks. We have to be very careful the Arzoran people don't see us as intruders, taking what we want and ignoring the consequences. Arzor is somewhat primitive, a ranching world, they live by animals. From the way the man I talked to spoke about it, this Storm is very well thought of. He's the one who broke up a Xik holdout group on Arzor two years ago."

Brion laughed suddenly. "Tell Tani to be nice to him then. Maybe she can talk him into letting us take samples."

"You could also consider something else." She reached over to scroll back a tape. "Look at this report. Arzor would be right for a viable expanding meerkat population. They used to have rinces that filled the same niche. They were filthy little beasts, cannibals, and with scent glands even worse than the Terran skunk. The settlers killed a lot, then some kind of plague came. Most of the rinces died and the rest couldn't sustain a population. They breed too slowly and they're dying out. It's causing problems with that life chain. I'd have to do a workup of the ecological balance, but I think meerkats would fit right in there. How many has Tani done?"

"Seven," Brion said absently as he studied the tape. "Eagles breed very slowly. Arzor does already have a similar bird-predator species and the authorities would have to take care eagles did not grow so numerous that they competed with the zamle. Otherwise I'd see no harm in allowing the man's eagle to have a viable mate. So long as we emphasize he must let things happen naturally. He is not to incubate eggs or aid in the survival of weak eaglets. Two breeding naturally would help expand a breeding pool we can use next time we stop here."

Kady looked at him affectionately. "Good idea. Shall I tell Tani to make a start on a male eagle? With forced growth he'd be old enough to hand over before we leave."

"Do that. Just to be on the safe side she could also start cloning a male dune cat from our tissue samples. We can study the situation further and it can always be sterilized before we hand it over. It will all help to convince this Storm that we aren't unsympathetic. I must get on. We're landing in a week and I have a million things to do."

He hardly noticed the slight hiss of the closing door. He was already immersed in a study of his genetic material lists.

The week passed quickly for Tani, who was very busy as well. On Arzor it seemed to pass more slowly. On the Quade holdings Hosteen paced and worried. Would the incoming Ark provide him with mates for Hing, Baku, and Surra? He suspected they wouldn't. He'd heard about the Fremlyn debacle. But Hing in particular needed a mate. Meerkats were sociable animals, they lived in a clan. Things had been all right so long as Hing's mate, Ho, was alive. Luckily she'd been in kit when Ho died. Now she had four barely adult youngsters to provide a clan. But there was no mate to provide more, and worse, of the babies, three had been male and fights were beginning.

He desperately needed mates for Hing and her clan. He'd talked to his father's friend at Ecology Headquarters. They'd run tests. The meerkats could be allowed to breed and spread out in their family clans. They'd take the niche the rinces had once filled. Now if only Arzor could persuade the Ark people of that.

The Ark had been a wonderful idea. No one had heard about it for several years after the destruction of Ishan and Terra. Then word had begun to spread through the worlds that still thought of Terra as home in many ways. An Ark to carry genetic material from one world to another. Making sure that the vast cornucopia of possibilities from any one world did not have to be lost again.

Somehow they'd been tied in with the Beast Master Headquarters, Hosteen thought. On the Ark were samples from all of the improved species that had been used in Beast Master teams. The Ark had been built in orbit as a transport. It had been an unarmed merchant ship of a type too thin-hulled and underengined to be useful in the war. The merchant family that owned it had left it mothballed in orbit, waiting for the war to end. Some wise woman had seen a possible future and quietly convinced the High Command to cover their bets both ways. The transport had been transformed. Into its broad belly had flowed samples of genetic material from millions of Terran species. The finest laboratories had been built inside its walls. A husband and wife scientific team had been placed in charge and when all was complete, the Ark had left to work quietly in a sector devoid of inhabited planets.

Seven months later the Xiks, with whom the Terran Alliance had been fighting a desperate and savage war, had broken through the Terran defense. Now Terra orbited as a burned-out cinder. A symbol about which every planet settled by humanity had rallied. Ishan too had died before the Xiks were thrust back -- and back. Until at last they were beaten.

Not that all Xiks accepted their defeat. They were a species who believed no other race was their equal in civilization, warlike abilities, or rights. Particularly the latter. To the Xiks, their rights and wishes were paramount. Over a year ago Hosteen himself had discovered that. A Xik holdout team had been secretly on Arzor, in league with several human renegades, stealing stock and shipping it off-world. More dangerous yet had been one of the near mythical Xik apers, a Xik, altered by their own surgeons to appear human, and used to destabilize governments, to cause strife and dissension amongst small populations. The holdouts, Storm believed, had been only a sideline. It was the aper who'd been important. Those enemies had died but there were still rumors of other holdout groups as well as plans some believed the Xik leaders had for a resurgence. Hosteen glanced up at the sound of footsteps.

"Logan, good to see you. How's the herd?"

His younger half-brother smiled. "The herd is fine but Dumaroy is flapping his mouth again."

"What else is new?"

"It isn't like that this time, brother. This time Dumaroy may have trouble. He says that there's something moving in the Blue. Nothing to do with the Norbies for once."

Hosteen came to attention. Dumaroy had a fixation about the natives, but he was a good rancher. He knew the land and the frawn herds that moved over it. The natives were broadly divided into two peoples. The more civilized Norbies who traded with the settlers and often worked on the ranches, and the Nitra, the wild tribes of the lands further from the settler areas. A people who lived in the old ways and intended to remain that way. Both peoples were divided into smaller clans that held their own territories.

"What does he say?"

"Frawns are dying. Along the edges of his land where it runs into desert. Just one here and there, but they're finding skeletons."

Hosteen stared at him. "Frawns do die."

"Yep," Logan agreed. "But you don't usually find a clean skeleton where there wasn't one the day before. Dumaroy says something is killing frawns and stripping them to the bone overnight. That isn't Norbies, it's something he's never met before." He grinned. "An' he says it's something he doesn't want to meet on any dark nights, either."

Hosteen nodded. "I don't know of anything that can do that here. How sure is Dumaroy that the skeletons have appeared so quickly."

"Says he wasn't sure at first. Just sort of noticed there seemed to be a couple more around than he'd seen before. But then he was camped right over at the edge of desert. He'd ridden out after some fool yearling frawn an' didn't find it. Next day he rode out after the frawn again and there it was. A man doesn't miss seeing a skeleton right under his horse's hooves. An' Dumaroy says that he had a good look at everything. The frawn was lying right across his tracks from the day before."

"Did he backtrack it?"

"He says so. Says there were signs it had run for miles right out into the edge of the Big Blue and then circled for home range again. The thing that is bothering him is that he couldn't see tracks of anything else. It must have been chased; no frawn is stupid enough to head out into waterless country just for the heck of it. But he couldn't find tracks and that upset him more than anything. You know Dumaroy."

Hosteen smiled a little. He did. He also knew the man was right. The Big Blue was the name the settlers had given to an area in which little grew, since there was no open water. It was a great area of desert bounded at the back by jagged foothills rising into mountains, equally arid. Over much of the desert and over the mountains in particular the winds and updrafts were so fierce that no air transport could survive. The few that tried over the years had all crashed.

"Yes. Dumaroy tracks well enough, but the Norbies track better. He doesn't want to call on them for help?"

Logan's answering grin was broad. "Nope, he doesn't. So he's asking for you and Surra. A comcall came in just before I left the house asking if you'd take her over there an' see what you can find."

He saw the look of surprise and sobered. "I know. If Dumaroy asks for your help then he's a lot more worried than he lets on. Will you go?"

"Yes. If Dumaroy's animals are dying, how long before whatever is causing it spreads?" Logan nodded slowly. "So, call Dumaroy. Tell him I'll be there tomorrow."

"What about the Ark. I thought they were landing a shuttle tomorrow. You wanted to talk to them about the team. They want to see you, too. They might take offense if you aren't there to meet them."

"If something new is killing frawns, that's more important. Tell them I'm sorry but I've had to ride out. I'll be back as soon as I can." He looked at Logan. "Just keep them away from Hing and her family. I don't want them doing anything until I'm there. From what the Fremlyn people say this Brion Carraldo thinks anything he wants to do is his right because he's a scientist."

Logan snorted. "They won't get near Hing. Even if they do get a look at them I'd stun the man before he laid a finger on them. Go and see about Dumaroy's trouble. I'll tell Dad where you've gone."

With that Hosteen was content. Brad Quade, his stepfather, would smooth over any ruffled scientific feathers. He had to have mates for the team, yes. But frawn ranching was what kept the planet of Arzor solvent. Frawn hides were not only beautiful, they were solidly durable. Frawn fabric was lovely, hard-wearing, water-repellent, and lightweight. Moreover, the Norbies relied on the frawn as Hosteen's own people had once relied on the buffalo. The Native Protection Agency at Spaceport would have something to say if the frawn herds were in danger, quite apart from what ranchers like Dumaroy would say and do.

He decided not to waste time. If he called in a copter he could be at Dumaroy's ranch house in hours. Surra was used to copter travel and he'd take Baku as well. He used the com to call in. Then he prepared. Brad arrived shortly before the copter touched down.

"I must go, Asizi." Storm used the Navaho word meaning respected chief. His stepfather had only become really known to Hosteen in the past couple of years, but by now a strong bond of affection had grown between them. Family was paramount to the Navaho and Storm had been raised in that tradition.

"Logan told me," Brad Quade returned thoughtfully. "Ride wary. If there is something out there that can kill a frawn and strip it to bones in a night, I'd rather you didn't run into it. Logan says there are no tracks?"

"None Dumaroy or his men could find. That isn't all. Frawns are fighters. One wouldn't just roll over. Either what killed it was so terrifying the frawn ran until it dropped, or it did fight. So where were the bodies? If whatever attacked it was big, it would have left tracks. If the attackers were small, then the frawn should have killed some."

Quade's face twisted into worried lines. "It doesn't sound good, son. Watch out for Dumaroy. You know him. Ten to one he's already started to wonder if this really isn't some new Norbie trick. It's only a step from that to him making trouble with the natives."

"Not this time, I don't think. Logan says he's honestly worried and even Dumaroy can see the Norbies could be worse off than ranchers if the frawns were destroyed."

From outside came the sound of the copter landing. Hosteen was ready. Brad watched in silence as the man he thought of as his son boarded with two of his Beast team. Baku didn't like copters, she preferred to use her own wings. The eagle ruffled a little in mild protest as Storm carried her aboard. Surra flowed silently up the lowered steps to place herself in a comfortable position on the floor between the seats. She knew when hunting was afoot and was only eager to get on with it. In contact with both, Storm was aware of their emotions. Unconsciously he reached out with his mind to calm the eagle, to assure the big cat that they would hunt soon. He hardly felt the sudden lift as they ascended. He was too busy wondering: What was it that came out of the Big Blue and killed?

The copter landed at their destination; Hosteen swept his team out and kept his face impassive as Dumaroy ran up.

"Two more fresh skeletons. I've got one of the men out riding to check. Take your pick of horses and let's go."

Suddenly Storm was as eager as the big rancher to leave. He swung his arm up, issuing a mental command. The eagle soared upward to circle the ranch buildings.

"Show me the horses. Do you have travel rations ready?"

"Yeah. I need to supply a couple of the line camps on the way, so I've loaded a cart. The cat can ride when she needs to." He shrugged. "It's a fair way. We'll be riding most of the day to the first camp. After that we can night over and be there by midday."

"What about your man?"

"Mirt Lasco's kid, Jarry. He said he'd stay at the Big Blue camp. That's about an hour's ride from where he found the frawn skeletons."

Storm glanced up sharply. "That's a risk."

"What?" Dumaroy snorted. "Nah. No man's ever been hurt or nothing. An' the Norbies'd be kicking up a fuss if any of them'd been killed. I reckon it's safe enough. Anyway, you can't tell young Lasco nothing. I said he should come in to the trail camp an' he reckoned he'd just have to ride all the way back again."

"His choice," Storm said shortly. He was worried but there was nothing he could do about it now. "Where are the horses."

He was led to a small corral where several ponies waited. Even with the urgency Storm halted a few seconds to look them over. They must be some of the mounts Put Larkin had sold after culling. They were good, but not as good as that herd of Put was going to be in several more generations. This bunch hadn't the Astran duocorn blood Larkin was adding these days. Nice animals, though. He selected a gray with a black mane and tail, a little larger than the others. Dumaroy handed over a bridle, then a saddle with filled saddlebags attached.

"Canteen?"

The rancher nodded. "Here. Two, an' water purification tablets just in case. Never go far without them." Storm had the horse ready in minutes and waited. Dumaroy swung up and led off. Behind him rolled the ranch cart drawn by a small but strong mare. Surra had leapt up to lie comfortably atop the load. Storm followed.

They rode in silence most of the day and it was close to dusk before the trail camp came in sight. It was a sturdy log building, plain and square, half tucked into the rise of a small hill. Inside there was a fresher, a com caller, and a stable connected deeper into the hillside. With the earth above, the stable would stay cool through even the hotter days. They ran their mounts into the waiting stalls, provided food and water, then returned to the main cabin to stow most of the supplies from the cart.

Baku came to Storm's mental call. She sideslipped in to land on his shoulder, accepting the offered chunk of raw meat. He allowed her to move to the branch he'd placed across a cabin corner. She'd be fine. Surra was settled on a bunk and Storm brought her water. She drank eagerly, then ate before falling asleep, sprawled along the soft bedding. Dumaroy looked as if he'd have said something, glanced at Storm, and kept it unsaid.

They were moving again at first light. This time at Storm's insistence they moved more slowly. Surra ranged out at first ahead, then on either side of them. A thread of interest from her caught Storm's attention. He sent Baku in that direction. The picture he received had him pulling up the gray pony hastily.

"Dumaroy! I thought you said there's been no frawn skeletons found this far into the good lands?"

"That's right. Why?"

Without answer Storm sent his pony trotting in the direction Surra had gone. They rounded a clump of brush and boulders to find her circling a skeleton. Baku floated lazily above. Dumaroy cursed savagely.

"Another one gone. This is costing me."

Storm turned to look at him. "There's more." He nudged the pony along a frawn track and into a small gully. At the end of it lay a jumble of new-stripped bones. At least six frawns, maybe seven. Surra had trotted ahead and reached over to sniff the skeletons. She wrinkled her face in an expression of disgust and spat. Above Baku ranged out further. Surra sat waiting as Storm dropped lightly from the gray and checked the bones.

"Fresh." He drifted around, widening his path in a spiral. He paused and looked again. "Rig, see what you make of this."

The big man plodded over to search the ground where Storm pointed. He blinked. "Dunno. It sorta looks as if it rained here, doesn't it." He considered the tiny, almost invisible marks. "I can only see them when I look from the right angle. You reckon whatever made them may have had something to do with the frawns dying?"

"I don't know, but it's worth remembering."