The Wounded Warrior

by Jim Laughter

  Realizing the soldier was mortally wounded, one of the surviving soldiers stabbed him in the back of his skull, instantly killing him; a soldier’s death. They buried him in the brown alien dirt.

  Following a tradition from their home worlds, they left his left forearm exposed, his claws straight up toward the distant home galaxy.

  Nevertheless, they reported the incident to their superior. At first, the commander was furious at them for the death of their comrade. It was a waste, and even though it would mean one less mouth to feed, he didn’t like how it might affect their mission.

  So now, the two hunters watched and hoped for fresh game along this last trail. Longing for both fresh provisions and a chance to warm themselves in the hot springs, they crept the last few yards, watching and sniffing the air.

  One of them caught a faint scent in the air and signaled to his fellow hunter with a wave of a claw. The animal’s strong musky odor was familiar to both of them. It was undoubtedly the same creature that had killed their comrade only three planetary time cycles ago; the one he’d stabbed with his battle knife before falling victim to the creature. Moreover, from the sounds it made as it rumbled along the game trail, they determined that it was not only heading their way but doing it at a good clip. Gripping their bolt launchers tight, the two soldiers prepared for the ambush.

  Then it was just on the other side of the thin screen of bushes. As one, they leapt through and began firing their heavy bolts into its thick brown fur. It roared a terrible vocal blast and raise up on its hind legs, charging forward against its attackers. Its nervous system stunned, it didn’t have the coordination it needed to defeat two predators at once. Instead, it waded full force into the beings attacking it, tearing at them with its teeth and claws. But the toxin on the bolts, pumped through its body by its racing heart, caused it to crashed unconscious to the ground.

  Knowing he had to work quick before the stunning agent wore off, one of the hunters took his hunting knife and stabbed the beast in the back of its skull and twisted. The animal went rigid and then died.

  “A hunter’s death to honor our fallen comrade!” he snarled at his partner. This was an excellent kill.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Red-tail commander tore a bite out of the raw rear shank he held and eyed his small command. They was tearing the two carcass apart and enjoying the treat of fresh meat. He watched one soldier as he bit down on some unidentified internal organ of the dead animal. The soldier smiled in delight even as blood oozed out from between his fangs and dripped down the front of his battle tunic. The commander noticed that it matched the color of the soldier’s front battle plating and reflected on the fitting significance of that detail.

  The killing of the native beast by his hunters was a good omen in the commander’s opinion. For his small, temporarily stranded detachment, it brought needed provisions and was a pleasant change from field rations. It also provided a welcome distraction from other problems that were pressing in on him.

  First, there was the problem of communications, or more accurately, the lack of communications. Originally, there was to be a ship hidden far out in space where it could act as a tight beam relay through the transit tube to the home worlds. Through underlings based there, he intended to stay in regular contact with the other detachments of his command. It would be necessary to coordinate any systematic gathering and shipping of humans. He was supposed to submit regular reports to the Main Hive Rep overseeing his mission. The Main Hive itself had directed such a requirement, and although he did not like it, the commander resigned himself to the added complication.

  But all those plans changed when the relay ship had been discovered and destroyed by a human mass patroller. That meant he was now cut off and would only have brief chances to try directing tight beam signals in the direction of the transit tube. Even these few attempts would put his group here on this alien planet at risk of discovery. The commander did not like to contemplate what would happen then.

  He knew he had to communicate and report if this mission was going to succeed and he was to reap the considerable benefits that success would bring. He had briefly tasted success once and now obsessively longed for it again. To do that he needed the willing help and obedience of this small group of soldiers.

  Again, he watched while they tore the carcass apart and feasted. It would only whet their appetite, and that was his lever to move these underlings to his bidding.

  He had already detected signs of discord and insubordination among a few of them. His normal response would be to have the offenders tortured and eaten, preferably alive for maximum pain. It was a tried and true method he had employed for years and was common practice among the ranks serving the Main Hive. He could not afford any reduction in the number of soldiers if he was to carry out his plans under these adverse conditions.

  Therefore, he could manipulate them through their lust for raw meat. Being of a higher caste, he would pit one against another if needed to accomplish his goals. But he would have to do it subtly to make it appear that he considered them a group.

  Jealousy would do the disciplining and free him of the normal burden of command. To them he would seem to be magnanimous and taking them into his counsel, when in truth he was using them for his own advancement. No one above him would hold him accountable for their deaths if it brought about the success of his mission. Lower caste underlings were meant to be expendable at the whim of the Main Hive.

  Finishing his meal, the commander threw the bone aside for the others. It was beneath him to eat it as well, and he wanted to maintain protocol. Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his battle tunic, the commander resumed study of his mission recording device. He scratched notes on its malleable surface with a claw while he contemplated how to set up the necessary tight-beam signaling device.

  He would have preferred to set up a permanent array but that would not work in these circumstances. Using a temporary system meant that his soldiers would have to carry the heavy equipment back and forth from their underground base to the surface every time the commander needed to communicate. They would grumble at this but he could handle that by simply rewarding the more willing with extra fresh meat while those complaining ate field rations. In short order, they would be falling all over themselves to do his bidding because rewards meant favor which they all craved.

  One of his soldiers held up the beast’s stomach and offered it to the commander. He sneered at this obvious effort to curry his favor. He marveled that a beast so large had only one such organ. That only illustrated the strangeness of this alien planet. Proper beasts on the home worlds boasted anywhere from two stomachs (like the Red-tails themselves) to as many as four. It allowed them to grow large in their native environment. All the commander could figure was that the lush vegetation of this alien world precluded the necessity of two stomachs. True, those grazing mammals they had herded and captured on that one planet had a respectable four stomach system, but so far nothing they had hunted here had more than one.

  The commander grunted and the soldier stood, brought the organ over and held it at arm length according to proper protocol. The commander decided he liked this show of abeyance as he eyed the raw and oozing organ held on the flat of the soldier’s claws at chin height before him. Setting his recording device aside, the commander leaned forward and took a vicious bite out of the flesh. The soldier showed proper trust and deference by not flinching. That he followed protocol by risking his own claws to the commander’s jaws was noted by his superior. It was not unusual to note scars and bits of flesh missing from the claws of an upwardly mobile underling.

  The commander chewed thoughtfully as if he might spit the bite back out in rejection of the offer. He could feel rather than see the gaze of the other soldiers watching one of their number serve his superior. The commander decided this could be very useful indeed and swallowed to show his acceptance.

  Taking the organ now in his own claws he continued to eat it while the soldier b
asked in his elevation of status. The commander calculated this would drive a wedge of discontent between this particular soldier and the others in the group. Such division had its uses and he intended to take full advantage of them in the near future.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After their encounter with Sweet Mama, the two women saw less signs of wildlife and only heard the cry of an occasional bird. Even the insects, the most prevalent form of life in the forest, disappeared. Whereas they had detoured around several large swarms lower down, up here in the high country the singing of insects was noticed more by its absence than its presence. Two hours after seeing Sweet Mama, Leatha was about to ask Anna about this deafening silence when she spotted something on the trail that stopped her dead in her tracks.

  Anna stopped beside the younger woman. “What is it?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Leatha pointed at the trail ahead. There ahead of them were the unmistakable signs that a battle had taken place and something heavy had been dragged along the trail. Thick pools of blood covered the path. The ground was pitted and scarred with deep gouges as if two mighty forces had clashed at this very spot. The end result had been something of immense bulk being dragged up the trail.

  With great care, Anna crept further along the trail, studying the ground and brush on either side. After several yards, she stopped and reached down again. Plucking something from a low broken limb next to the trail, she worked her way back to Leatha.

  “It was Sweet Mama,” Anna declared, her voice low, just above a whisper. She held out a tuft of brown fur for Leatha to see.

  “Why would Sweet Mama drag her prey along the trail?” Leatha asked.

  “She wasn’t dragging anything,” Anna said. “She was being dragged.”

  Leatha thought of the bear they had seen earlier. “Impossible,” she said. “Sweet Mama weighs five or six hundred pounds. What kind of predator do you have in these woods that could drag that bear?”

  “We don’t.”

  “And don’t most predators just eat their prey where they kill it?”

  “Not all, but some do,” Anna said. “This is definitely strange. Maybe we should have brought your blaster after all. I certainly don’t want to run into whatever’s out here with just a field knife.”

  “You and me both,” Leatha agreed.

  “Whatever killed Sweet Mama took her by surprise.”

  “How can you tell that?”

  “Because I know bears,” Anna answered. “Few predators can sneak up on a bear. The bear will either run or fight if it has reason enough. What you saw back there was left by Sweet Mama’s death throes. I didn’t recognize the signs from the other animal.”

  A cold chill ran up Leatha’s back and she felt the small hairs on the back of her neck prickle. There was only one force in the galaxy she knew of powerful enough to challenge and defeat an animal like Sweet Mama. She thought she’d smelled sulfur in the air earlier but had dismissed it as just another of those natural aromas produced by nature. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  “At least this explains why we haven’t seen any game for a while,” Anna observed. “As long as the scent of the bear is here, they’ll avoid it.”

  Leatha took the lead and set a cautious pace. Although she already had a sinking feeling grinding at her gut, she didn’t want to miss any clues that might explain the mystery of the bear.

  The trail continued its meandering course upslope through the forest. It concerned her that there were no other tracks in the soft dirt swept clean by the bear’s body being dragged. Surely, other animals had come along since the bear had been killed.

  Leatha froze when she spotted a familiar claw print in the soft dirt. Another cold chill ran up her spine. Anna came up beside her and looked down at the print.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  “I have,” Leatha said in an odd, cold voice.

  “What is it?” Anna asked as she stopped beside her friend.

  “That,” Leatha said, pointing toward a mound of dirt a few feet away. Out of it protruded an alien arm with sharp claws where fingers should be.

  Anna didn’t know what to make of it, but whatever it was, it was sure having an effect on Leatha.

  “I don’t recognize it,” Anna admitted, looking from the mound to Leatha.

  “I do,” Leatha said in almost a snarl. “Red-tails!”

  “That’s impossible!” Anna exclaimed. “Red-tails haven’t been in this sector for decades. They can’t be here. This is a secluded backwater planet of the Axia. We’re a long way from any of the battles or incursions.”

  “It’s probably the precursor for an invasion taskforce. They’ve set up a command post in a cave or underground bunker somewhere close. Maybe a dozen advance troops with one commander.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve seen it before.”

  Leatha involuntarily rubbed the scar on her forearm, left there by a Red-tail close encounter on her first duty station. It was a battle she’d tried over the years to forget but that still caused her sleepless nights.

  “They’ll have a tight-beam transmitter that requires line-of-sight transmission access, which means they’ll have to carry it outside at least twice a day to report in to their command ship or hive rep.”

  “Hive rep?”

  “Red-tail live in hives like colonies of bees. They have a complicated social structure complete with drones, soldiers, workers, hunters, common laborers, caste officers, and leaders. Higher caste command Red-tails are intelligent, whereas common Red-tails are unwitting brutes bred and born for battle. When they attack, they swarm in overwhelming numbers. Nothing on a planet is safe, and no life-form is spared.”

  “We’re in deep trouble,” Anna said. “We have to notify the authorities.”

  “First we need to fully assess the situation,” Leatha said evenly. She had a look in her eye that sent shivers up Anna’s spine. “If we go off without thinking things through, we put ourselves and this planet in greater danger. We’ll also need to stay rested. We may have to travel fast and far to be safe. We must lighten our packs. The less weight we carry the faster we can go.”

  She dropped her pack and started going through it. Anna could not think of an argument against it so she did the same. In short order, there was a small pile of less than essential items between them.

  “More,” Leatha said as she eyed the pile. “Only what is absolutely necessary for survival; food bars and water. Even then less is better.”

  “But what about preparing food?”

  “We won’t have time for that,” Leatha said in a hard voice. “Save the heat tabs. They might prove useful.”

  “You make it sound like we’ll be hiking straight through the night.”

  Leatha didn’t answer.

  “That could be dangerous.”

  “No more dangerous than hanging around here.”

  In a few minutes, there was a substantial pile of discarded equipment between them. Leatha stooped down and poked through it, retrieving their water bottles and compass.

  “Do you know where we are? I mean without a map or positioning device.”

  “Pretty close,” Anna said after a moment. “I’ve been keeping a mental map. Never hurts.”

  “Good.”

  Leatha spotted something in the pile and reached down to grab it. Anna saw it was the signaling device.

  “I thought of that but it’s no good,” Anna said. “The Preserve Authority wouldn’t believe us or help if they did.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about using it,” Leatha said as she stowed the device. “I just don’t want to leave them a tool to use against us. They can track us with this, and also have a way to interfere with the global positioning satellites. Better to keep it. If we need to, we can destroy it before we have to face them.”

  “Face them!” Anna exclaimed.

  A wild, feral look shone in her eyes – eyes born of combat. “You are about to ex
perience horrors like you’ve never imagined.”

  “Unseen One, help us.”

  “You’re going to step out of your comfortable little world into a universe where nothing is sacred, especially not life. You’re going to face an enemy whose one purpose is to kill you and eat you, and not necessarily in that order. All of Hades is going to break out at The Wounded Warrior Camp and we’re the only ones in a position to stop it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The two hunters left their underground lair later than they would have preferred. Although the temperature on this alien planet was warmer this time of the day, they would have traded the welcome warmth for the lower light of early morning. Besides, that was when the game was more abundant.

  They resigned themselves to what might prove to be a long hunt. Rather this than face their commander again and his review of their past actions. He became especially wroth when he questioned them about the demise of their comrade and found their lack of action to help to his liking. They thought his earlier acceptance of the incident meant they were given a pass on it. Instead, he unexpectedly interrogated them at some length about the details. Even the kill of the large mammal didn’t dissuade his anger.

  Now they were not only delayed by his tirade but were also again under orders to bag their appointed weight of kill for the day. Contrary to their custom, he also ordered them to exhume their dead comrade and return his corpse to the base camp for burial in their underground bunker.

  Enroute to the burial site, they checked over a dozen traps they’d set along game trails. Most were disappointing in their emptiness. One had been tripped but whatever animal that triggered it had escaped. There were hopeful signs it had been wounded by the trap’s poisoned spikes. Over time, the nerve agent would take effect and bring the animal down. The only problem would be finding it before one of the native predators. Their other traps had done their deadly work. At least they’d have half of their quota, which meant they would only have to track and kill half as much again before they could return to their lair.