Me Ma Supial!

by Ged Maybury

  Silence. Nothing. Then the water seemed to explode. A huge head rushed up, cracking open into a vast mouth. Teeth! So many teeth! And six stocky legs whirling under it. Mica’s judgment was out. It was coming up too fast, too close, and he sprang back on impulse, knocking Kynn full-length onto the mud. The pole, still in her grasp, jerked the bait wildly away. She heard the jaws snap shut somewhere near her legs and she froze in terror, waiting for the next bite.

  Her life flashed past inside her.

  MICA WAS MOMENTARILY surprised, for he had expected her to jump, but he allowed himself to roll right over her and recovered his balance as fast as he could, getting his eyes back upon the croc. It had snapped on thin air, just where he had been standing only a few moments ago. Kynn was on the ground and the bait was cast uselessly onto the mud far from the croc. It wasn’t going to take the bait in its next bite, it was going to take her!

  With a fierce cry he sprang across her and punched it hard on the snout before its tiny brain could register the fact that its first bite had been such a failure.

  It jerked back, startled.

  “Hey ah! Hey ah!” Mica shouted at it, hopping across its sightline, drawing it away from Kynn. The giant head swung around, the jaws opening, but it had now lost the momentum of its first charge. On land it was not so fast on its legs.

  He smelt its rotten breath as the teeth snapped in front of his chest. Water and saliva splattered into his face.

  “Kynn!” he cried, “Bait him! Bait him now!”

  He jumped back towards her, trying to bring it towards the bait, but he skidded and went sprawling right under its nose.

  KYNN WAS UP, WILD-EYED and energised. Mica was down! All she had was the pole so she used it swiftly, hitting the crocadilly hard across its snout. The bait flopped violently down, hitting the mud on the far side.

  The animal flinched, grunted angrily, and swung its glinting reptilian attention directly onto her. She saw its leg-muscles bunching and quickly braced her own, jerked back the pole and saw the bait flick past her face. From the way the pole jerked and then went loose in her hand she knew the bait had ripped loose but she didn’t care right then. The great beast lunged and snapped again, its jaws closing on the pole just as she had planned. “Yes!” she gasped, then her guts twisted in horror when she realised it had also snagged her skirt.

  The huge head twisted violently, jerking her hip and splintering the pole all in the same moment. Blood spurted from somewhere inside the crocadilly’s mouth. It flinched back in pain and Kynn instinctively spun herself about to quickly get free of the altar cloth. She glimpsed it flapping in the mud as the crocadilly jerked its head about, still trying to free itself of the two unwelcome items.

  She was free, she was on her feet, but she was paralysed by the sight of that incredibly valuable cloth flicking up and down in the mud and blood.

  Suddenly Mica came flying at her, caught her and spun her twice around, propelling her further uphill. In the same fluid motion he plucked up the bait-ball and flicked his attention back to the water. There was another terrible snap close by, followed by a splatter of stinking saliva. Kynn twisted to look. A second crocadilly was on the bank, already flicking up its head, swallowing something in the most sickening way. Beyond it more crocadillies were heaving up the bank and Mica was shouting, “Run now! Get away back!”

  She needed no more urging. Heart thundering, breath heaving, every nerve alive, she plunged up-slope through the chaotic vegetation, past the high-water mark, further into the trees, running, running, until she was back in the clearing with the skimmer. With a thankful gasp she fell across the seat, her lungs aching and pain all through her body. The horrible coughing started again. She glanced back as she coughed, looking for Mica, but he wasn’t there!

  She came up, turned, cried out, “Mica!” And he was there, just out of sight of her first glance. He was mud-spattered and coughing too. But also grinning. A wild triumphant grin!

  She sprang off the skimmer and ran to him and hugged him hard, weeping with relief. She did not want to let him go. She did not want to lose this wonderful new friend. He hugged her in return and as she slowly fainted to the sound of her own panting breath she thought she heard him murmur, “I love you, Kynn Wheeler. I love you.”

  WAR

  IN THE LAST PINK LIGHT of the sunset, the first Supial crew began paddling. The catapult, riding securely atop three lashed-together canoes, was almost invisible against the eastern sea. They came silently ashore just south-east of the Human village, at the edge of the cleared land the Humans had made for their flying machine to slide in and out to sea on its screaming self-made wind.

  The other crew, having rounded the rocky point on foot through the trees, met them at the edge of the surf and helped ease the thing onto firm sand. They had brought the fire-baskets, safe and dry, and the lighting-flame ready under its shroud.

  One of the Supials, dark-furred and naked, crept closer to the metal fence. Lion Fish was her name and she had seen first-hand how effective the killing sticks had been at close range. She was very keen to make hers do its work on a Human.

  She could already see one of them, just visible above the fence against the western sky, nervously raising and lowering its head, but always in the same place, as if standing on something. A guard, just as expected.

  But the time for killing had still not arrived. Lorikeet had advised them well on how to conduct the attack, and Lion Fish was going to stick to the plan.

  WHEELER STRODE PAST his troops, carrying his big book and eye-balling them fiercely. He glanced once more at the hasty platforms they had built each side of the gate, and the floodlights on their poles ready to go up quickly.

  “You are now under my command,” he began in a quiet yet dangerous voice, “You will all obey me, absolutely, for the Lord speaks only through me, and he has told me that this alien scum is to be wiped out! Remember, they have no souls. They are animals, and you all know what it says in the Wordolord, and the Lord spoke to Saint Curran, saying 'you are to have dominion over all other life-forms, for only you have been imbued with the Spirit to know'.”

  “So let it be,” murmured one of the men. It was young Habib. Wheeler smiled at him indulgently, even though he had barely begun his sermon.

  But perhaps it was time for action after all, not sermons.

  “So do your duty, soldiers, go forth and avenge your fellows, so cruelly murdered this morning! Those filth are out there, just waiting ...”

  “Hey!” called a voice from the southern end of the compound, “I just saw something!” It was Jon Renaldos, the seaward watch, running towards them, “It looked like a little fire on the beach, then I saw about a dozen Supials with some sort of wooden frame!”

  All eyes swivelled south, just in time to see a flaming ball fly in over the seaward fence. It went down somewhere near the survey plane.

  “Fire alert!” roared Wheeler, “Man the walls! Shoot those devils! Shoot them all!”

  THE FIRST FIRE-BALL went off smoothly, and it wasn't until the second one was being lit that they heard a response from inside the wall. Human shouts and pounding feet. The Supials cheered as the second ball went up.

  Two Human heads suddenly appeared on the wall where the first one had been earlier. Crack! The killing stick had worked just as Lion Fish had hoped, and the two Humans vanished with a cry.

  Now the battle was in earnest. The reloaders pulled hard on the throwing paddle, getting it down to where it would click into the releasing notch. The fireball crew had one already lit and slipped it onto the paddle. WANG! It was away at once.

  “Turn it right,” grunted the aimer as he heaved at one of the side handles, “I think their buildings are more that way.”

  Suddenly the shouting beyond the fence redoubled. Another head appeared briefly above the wall and a damage-stick flashed. Something whizzed amongst them. The Supials looked about at their fellows, but no-one had fallen, yet. They heard Lion Fish crack her damage-stick ba
ck at the fence and cheered again. Then they worked at even greater speed, fired by their own excitement and fear.

  WANG! The fifth fireball went over. Then a sixth.

  AT THE GATE THE WAITING Supials moved at the sound of the first cheer, hurrying to the bodies and efficiently dragging them to cover. No-one paused to cry. That would come later. Lorikeet was with them, looking for the little grey-furred bundle she knew would be there. Silently, grimly, she began dragging her beloved Burrawang towards the trees. It was going to be a long sad journey home.

  Meanwhile Nurse Shark, the Supial who guarded them with the other killing stick, watched the wall intently, determined to have the first shot.

  A SMALL FIRE WAS FLARING amidst the fuel canisters near the plane. The colonists rushed to it, hesitant and fearful, but also terribly aware of the need for speed. The extinguishers hooshed and burning sparks whirled upwards. Whatever these things were, they were fiendishly well conceived.

  “Here comes another!” called a soldier.

  “Forget it!” ordered Wheeler at full roar, waving angrily, “Just get to the wall! Michaels! Habib! Get up there and shoot them!”

  The two soldiers leapt upon the sturdy kitchen table set against the wall and looked over. There was a loud bang and they both fell off again. Michaels fell from pure fright but his young companion was gushing blood. A fist-sized hole had been punched in the fence at stomach height.

  “Medics!” screamed Michaels in terror, trying to stem the blood, “Stretcher!”

  “Those evil devils!” roared Wheeler, “They've got guns!”

  THE SUPIALS GOT ELEVEN fireballs away before the Humans hit a mark. The unlucky Supial cried out terribly and fell into the surf. Two of his fellows quickly bundled him into a canoe. He was still breathing, but writhing in pain. The canoe was taken out through the surf. Now the two crews were three short between them.

  SOME OF THE COLONISTS were beginning to panic, but Pastor Wheeler kept his cool. “Get another platform over there! Flank that gunman! Take him out!”

  His troops scattered, seeking something to build with. As they did so Wheeler suddenly realised something else: no-one was at the main gates.

  Was this attack simply a diversion?

  “Jonty! Mathers! And you three; back to the gates!”

  The men diverted themselves from other tasks and ran back through the compound with Wheeler. “Jonty,” puffed Wheeler as they ran, “set up the lights with Mathers as soon as you can! You other boys, I want you up with the lights. Rapid fire! Shoot anything that moves!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Back at the seaward fence, the other two soldiers had found two near-empty compressed fuel drums and an aluminium plank. They scrambled onto this makeshift platform and cautiously peeked over the top of the fence, weapons ready.

  All they could see was the flare of a little fire on the beach, surrounded by faint ghostly figures. They aimed quickly and fired. There was a shout of surprise, followed by the heathen babble of the aliens. The figures on the beach were in disarray.

  The soldiers aimed again, but the fireball that was conveniently lighting their targets suddenly took off, arching high over their heads. As they hesitated to watch, something banged through the wall just below their feet. The left-hand fuel drum exploded, followed microseconds later by the other.

  THE RENEWED SHOOTING had taken Lion Fish by surprise. She twisted around, scanning the fence top. There! Two of them, only ten paces away. Swinging her damage stick she hastily triggered it. There was a blinding flash. She ducked instinctively as stinging dirt and filthy burning heat battered her head and shoulders. With a cry she rolled away and down, abandoning the damage-stick, and ran instinctively for the sea, her fur plastered with burning aviation fuel.

  Unnoticed by anyone, the last fireball rolled neatly under the temple.

  SUCCOUR

  KYNN WOKE FROM A DEEP sleep to find herself dressed in nothing but her underwear and lying in the arms of a furry young man. And it was dark, with stars above. And cold! But it was none of these strange facts that woke her. It was the insistent squirming of something large and wormy in her armpit. She let out a scream and jumped to her feet, tugging frantically to try and remove the hideous thing, but it wouldn't let go.

  Mica was suddenly up and alert beside her, a warm furry darkness in the faint starlight. “What is it, my lovie?”

  Her voice was pure panic, “There’s a leech-worm under my arm!”

  His firm hands quickly assessed the situation, then tugged the squirming thing gently loose from her arm-pit hair. He held it up in the faint light and laughed aloud, “It’s just a little licky-snake. They love a good tasty armpit they do.” He tossed it away. “Not much eating in them though. Too many bones.”

  Suddenly she remembered the whole terrible day, a hundred horrifying details, tumbling together to race her towards this one moment: She was alone with an alien marsupial in a dark jungle. The shooting; the screaming; the smoke; and crazy Mica in the middle of it all. And the crocodillies.

  “Oh my Lord,” she cried aloud, “What have I done!”

  “I don't know,” answered Mica in the dark beside her, “and I'm hungry.”

  Kynn quelled her panic and looked around. The skimmer was nearby, its standby lights softly winking on the interface panel. The utility-bin! She went straight to the skimmer, flicked up the seat, found the torch and flicked it on.

  Mica stood blinking, his fur dishevelled and his skimpy clothing muddy and ripped. He tugged at his one garment as if ready to pluck it off and give it to her. “Are you cold?”

  “No I’m fine,” she said hastily, quickly averting her eyes. Swinging the torch down she dug into the tightly packed supplies in the bin, finding a package she had expected. She tugged its lanyard and there was a faint hiss of air as the vacuum packaging relaxed. She shook out the all-weather cover-all and dressed hastily, wincing at the pain on her back.

  “We can't stay here, can we?” she asked Mica, securing the front seam and turning to him again.

  “Not a good place, no,” he said, peering around, “but you needed to sleep. Now we go, yes? You come stay in my village. I'll make you a little house; we can be in it together, but you can go to the Women's House anytime. They all do, even the real lovie-dovies. I'm sure...” but then he hesitated, and continued very unsure, “...I'm sure my people will welcome you. You are Kynn Wheeler. Supials love you. I love you.”

  She stared at him, open mouthed, speechless. Then with a shake she came back to her more immediate problems. “We... ah... we'll find... I have some of your villages plotted in the skimmer. I ...” She turned away from his relentless gaze. “I think I'd better check the charge.”

  She touched the skimmer's screen and it lit up. The charge bar told its own story: escaping had used most of the stored power. Now, at low speed, she knew they might get maybe forty or fifty kilometres before it all went flat. But what about the headlight? She’d never driven it at night. She poked at the screen again, trying to get an estimate. The answer soon popped up: 33 KM ON CURRENT CHARGE.

  Then she noticed something winking in the corner of the screen, something she had never before needed to use: the e-mail icon. With heart beating fast she fingered the spot. Yes, she had mail – one message with a very vague heading: 'PLEASE RESPOND - CHECKING USER.'

  Who was it from? Him?

  Fearful, she did not open it. Instead she turned to Mica.

  “Let’s get on.”

  MICA CLUNG ON BEHIND her, really terrified now. In daylight it had been scary enough, but he had trusted her. Now, with a strange landscape of dense trees rushing at them from the dark, looming up in the headlight and vanishing off to the side before they were even past – it was too much for his senses to cope with. Most of the journey he kept his eyes shut, trying to enjoy instead the warmth of her back and the softness of her belly under his hands. Very odd, she was, without a pouch. Did the Humans even have babies? That was what they had talked about in Mant
a Ray's village – how the Humans never laughed, or had babies. Someone even suggested that they did not even have souls. But one thing was for sure: Kynn Wheeler had a soul. He was sure of it!

  THEY RESTED UP IN A village known as Lower Cliff Village, the place where Kynn knew that artifacts of metal were gathered together from three higher villages know as the Upper Cliff Villages. These artifacts, highly prized by the Supials, were then traded further afield. Though tonight her mind was hardly on these local details. As she sat silent and exhausted with about fifty Supials peering at her in their shamelessly curious way, Mica did his best to tell them what had happened. There was immense anger as the story unfolded. Some of the villagers had sons and daughters in Ocean Village, some had whole families. The talk went late and Mica was exhausted by the time they let him go to bed in the Young Dudes’ House. Kynn was taken to the Women's House and put to bed weeping. Two elderly Supial women sat holding her hands and crooning softly until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  IN THE MORNING VILLAGERS came and woke Mica. Instead of breakfast for him, they had more anger. “Why did you not tell us about her back!”

  “What about her back?”

  “Terrible cuts and wounds! Going septic! She must stay and be healed! Why did you not say?”

  Mica slumped in shame, suddenly remembering her blood-stiff clothing. “I didn’t know! She did not show me, and is it something we should be asking about? I don’t know, sometimes, with these Humans! Do you?”