by Chris Hechtl
His implants told him a lot about the group as he wandered past the live orchestra. He took a fluted champagne glass from a waiter robot and sipped at it. Many of the group were rich, some powerful. Not too many celebrities. Most of the younger set would be at the clubs and raves he reasoned, though the older set might be rubbing elbows here later. From some of the chatter he picked up, the party didn't really start for another two hours.
He was surprised to run into Jean Pierre of the New Earth Party outside on the veranda. Pierre's bodyguard, a Russian his implants tagged as Saul Roshenko, creeped him out. The guy put one hand up to indicate to the chimp to keep his distance. Elliot did so with a nod. Something about the Russian reeked of power and death.
He tried to keep on the outskirts of the crowd since he knew he was an outsider looking in. A casual guy invited for his being unusual than for his accomplishments. That was fine with him; he used the time to go through what his implants were pulling up. The facial recognition system and occasional introduction or name drop in his hearing were piling up data. There were minor members of the government in the party, as well as members of the local government from Mambto as well as surprisingly two US senators and a House Representative on some sort of tour of Africa.
Sorting through the wealth of data would be pain. Each face and name was recorded as was his vision and hearing of the event. He'd upload it to the boss later so they could pick through it all and get a handle on who was talking with who. Just having the info would be a minor score, though he wondered if Blant was also wired. He didn't want to chance being tagged as a paparazzi and kicked out the door if he tried to run a streaming upload. Hopefully, his buffers could handle it all.
He checked out their social pages and noted some of the guests were into hunting. A few were flagged by his implants. He raised an eyebrow and inquired why by clicking the link hovering over their heads. They were apparently linked to the missing Neos; they had been one of the last ones to have seen them.
He was amused that Roman's people had dug that deep, that they were that thorough and had dumped it into his files for him. He certainly hadn't put it in there. It was good that they were taking the matter so seriously. “You seem new here,” a woman murmured to him.
“That's because I am, ma'am,” Elliot said absently. He turned to her. She had a British accent, not a Portuguese one he realized. “Sorry,” he blinked, surprised. “I just landed this morning.”
“Ah.”
“I'm used to a different crowd in space.”
“I've been to space a few times,” the woman murmured. Elliot glanced at her. She was Tasami Naguma, an aide at the American Embassy. “Up and down Miss …”
“Naguma,” the woman said as he watched her cradle her drink. “It is a nice night,” she murmured.
“It is that. I was curious about all the people here. A lot of them are into the hunting clubs. Some do it virtually according to their social media material but others …,” he shrugged and indicated one of the heads mounted on the wall. It was a lion in full roar. “Is that real?”
“I assume so,” she said, looking at it. She took a sip of her drink. “You've checked the social sites out?”
“I like to do my homework about people I may meet,” Elliot replied absently. He could kick himself he thought when he realized that had come out. “I mean, I'm well, here,” he said. “And I admit I don't exactly blend in.”
“True,” she said mildly. He could tell from her hooded expression that she was suddenly suspicious of him.
“No, I'm not a reporter. I'm middle management for Lagroose Industries. I worked my way up the ladder to the starship division before I was promoted and transferred to marketing,” he said, sticking to his cover story.
She suddenly smiled, her eyes lighting with sudden interest. He'd banked on that, the idea of going to new worlds was of interest to a lot of people throughout the solar system. Of course it could backfire if he said it in the same area as Pierre and his crowd he reminded himself. “Really?” the woman said, her tone pitching interest to others around them. “You don't say. Is it as complex as they say?”
“Yes. A couple trillion lines of code in the hyperdrive alone,” Elliot replied with a shake of his head. “I did some work on the life support before a couple of my ideas got kicked upstairs. I took some online courses too and well …,” he spread his hands helplessly. “Here I am.”
“And here you are,” she said with another polite smile.
“I did a lot of social interaction through the net. Like a lot of Neos we interacted …,” he frowned.
“In secret?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “The powers that be didn't want us to come out until they thought people would accept us as just that, people. We may look and think a little differently but we're people too,” he said.
“I see,” the woman said with a more serious nod. “We had such problems centuries ago in America. Women like me, and well, my skin,” she said, indicating her mahogany skin.
“I remember my history, ma'am,” he said with a dutiful nod. “I bet you are glad you are here now than trapped in that time period.”
“I'm surprised you've learned history or have gone that far back. Many treat it as an elective,” she murmured.
He wasn't sure if that was a snide comment or not. He shook his head. “I dabble in a lot of things, ma'am. It's best to learn from the past so we won't make the same mistakes over and over. We can make new ones,” he said.
She smiled politely. “So, you are into hunting?”
“To be honest I never was into the shooters or anything like that. I do like to be outside though. I know a couple of people who are agoraphobic because they were penned up in the habitats for most of their lives, but this is … nice,” he said, indicating their surroundings.
“It is indeed,” she murmured.
He noted a few people were close by, most likely eavesdropping. “I'm not sure about hunting. I don't know … I mean, is it really necessary in this day and age?” he asked.
“You are the one thinking about going to new worlds, you tell me?” a person asked from behind him. He turned and cocked his head. “Aren't you planning on going to new worlds? You'll have to hunt to eat, fish ….”
“I don't know,” Elliot replied with another shrug. “To be honest I'd rather stick around here. Earth's atmosphere may be a bit worse for wear but it's getting better, or so I've read.”
“Nice answer.”
“I'm new to traveling too,” Elliot replied. “I've vacationed at a couple of casinos upstairs and tried to go camping at an L-5, but this is my first time down in the gravity well.”
“Mixing it up with the grounders?” a woman asked snidely.
“No … well, yes, but not the way you are implying, ma'am. I want to look around. Learn my roots a bit. Explore,” Elliot replied. He could see a few expressions clouded on a few of the people around him.
Some seemed amused, a few wary, the lady near him nice. But others were distant. A couple were sizing him up and that made him feel uncomfortable. A few snickered behind his back. He realized he was indeed a part of the evening's entertainment but there was something sinister going on, something predatory that had his hackles rising in self-defense. His fight or flight reflex was kicking in, screaming at him to do something.
Someone to point at and gossip about, he thought, fighting the feeling, the urge to run. He didn't want to make himself look foolish. The imbecile who really thought he belonged in that crowd, he thought. That bothered him a bit, that they didn't take him or his species seriously. That they didn't consider him an equal.
The eyes on him also bothered him, though he thought it would be a good thing. He made a note in his implants to check the other guests and their social media comments and pictures after the party. Something might pop up. A better time line of events perhaps? He made a note to himself.
During his distraction Miss Naguma swapped his drink for a fresh one. “One for the road,
” she murmured in a pointed hint to him. He took it and looked at the men around them. The room was beginning to fill as the real mover and shakers arrived. Some of them were probably making deals, and now that he had announced he was a minor player, he was being politely shown the door.
“Okay, I don't want to be rude. I can tell when I've overstayed my welcome. It was nice meeting you all,” he said politely. He took a couple sips of the drink as he noticed security quietly herding him in the direction of the door.
He went out into the night air and set the glass down on the concrete lion. “Nice night,” he said, stretching and letting his nostrils flare to take in the scents of the cooler evening air. There was a cab already there waiting.
The moment he was inside the cab, he felt a great lethargy overcome him. At first he thought it was relief at getting out of there, but then as his eyelids grew heavy, he felt a distant trace of alarm. He couldn't lower his guard! Not yet! He couldn't help it though. He yawned, trying to drive more oxygen into his lungs. He fought the urge to sleep the best he could. When he saw the eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror, he frowned. A real driver? Really? Not a robot? The guy touched something on his steering wheel, and a mist filled the back of the cab. Elliot tried to move, one fist smashed at the back of the window but it was too late. He passed out.
Elliot woke slowly, groggily. The sounds and smells around him penetrated his consciousness first, then an awareness that something was wrong. When he cracked his eyelids, he blearily realized he was in a jungle. “That's it; I'm so fracked up,” he moaned, trying to sit up. A wave of vertigo hit him.
He found himself naked. At first he was confused; he usually slept naked. But then it registered that he was outside and that embarrassed and pissed him off. Then he was amused, was he in some sort of prank?
He looked around groggily, more aware than he was letting on. He spotted a camera, then found a tablet dangling from a vine near his head. It swung there in the breeze, taunting him.
He wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked, pretending to be upset as he tried to call out with his implants. Unfortunately, he couldn't get a signal. Jammed, he thought, swearing viciously. The local Wi-Fi network was there, but he didn't have the password. He tried to access it as a guest but immediately felt a ping back.
That made him disconnect the link with a trickle of fear. He didn't want them to backtrack his attempt to access. There was no telling what they'd do. He looked around, hoping for a plane or boat or something in the area but nothing presented itself. Either they were over the horizon or just out of range like a satellite, or the damned jamming.
He reached out hesitantly and finally hit play. An image appeared of Miss Naguma, she grinned. “I don't want to be a bad hostess so we've found a more … proper way of entertaining you. Oh, my, where are my manners. Here is your host,” she said, passing it to a Negro male.
Elliot fought the wave of amusement when he saw the guy. Not only did he have some sort of handlebar mustache but he was also wearing a monocle and a classic ancient British hunting outfit, complete with hat. “We're giving you a sporting chance, Moreau. Do make it entertaining,” he said dryly.
“I'm not a Moreau,” Elliot growled, brown eyes glittering.
The hunter smirked at him. What Elliot thought was blue glitter from a reflection on the monocle changed for a moment. He realized immediately it was a HUD, a primitive form of information presentation in their current time, but fashioned in that form to present the proper appearance of a hunter.
“My, my, a testy one. This one will be sporting. He should be good for quite a while of amusement. Not very bright though,” the hunter said immediately, which made Elliot realize it was a live conversation. A plot came up under the image of the hunter; this one with a classic radar scope with a blinking dot. He was obviously tracking the Neochimp on the monitor. “Pity. But we will get some entertainment out of the hunt while it lasts. Hopefully this one lasts longer than that female,” he said in an aside to someone off camera. “Five minutes, animal. Make your peace and then move,” the guy said. The tablet shut off.
Elliot ripped the tablet off the vine and then bent and picked up a sharp rock near his right foot. He turned in a smooth motion and threw the rock at the camera, smashing it. Then he ran, grinning as he tucked the tablet under his arm. If he could get a few moments alone, he would be able to hack the tablet, get the Wi-Fi password or something else he could use. Or so he hoped. He'd just have to chance their tracking the thing until he could find the time to pull the device's battery.
He hit a stream and changed direction, leapt over some rocks then hit the bush. He avoided the trail; they were obvious traps, too obvious. Instead he dived into the bush on all fours, the only way to stay alive. He had to abandon dignity, abandon his fear and focus on his one remaining objective, to stay alive.
He threw rocks from time to time to hit trees or other things. The occasional buzz of a flying drone nearby made him toss them at the machines as well. They bobbed out of the way. He heard roars and barking in the jungle, so he made a couple of circles around trees, climbed the tree then moved from one to the other for a distance before he climbed down.
When he judged he was far enough away for a moment's respite, he sat down and tried to catch his breath. His eyes continued to rove though, looking about him. He'd chosen a thick tight grove of trees. The drones could hover all they wanted, but they couldn't get in without risking his wrath.
His long questing fingers tried to hack the tablet, but to his frustration he found he couldn't. When he found the setting section, it was password protected. Just for the hell of it, he entered the most commonly used password. When he hit the enter button, he was shocked for his trouble. His involuntary cry made the birds scatter in flight. He shook his finger then popped it into his mouth.
He had dropped the tablet. He nudged it with his foot as he shook his hand out. A video message played, mocking him for his effort.
He growled, showing his canines as his fur went up. He was tempted to throw the thing but refrained. Instead he held it at arm's length for a moment, looking it over. It might come in handy he thought, gingerly wrapping it in a large leaf and then sticking it under his arm. Most likely its GPS was being tracked though. He'd have to do something about that. He pulled it back out, popped the panel apart and yanked the battery. Before he put the cover back on, he noticed a small flat piece of plastic that didn't belong. The black thing was just stuck on the inside cover but it reminded him of an ancient magnetic tag. He pulled it off and then threw it towards the sounds of a nearby stream. With any luck the damned thing would float away. He went in the opposite direction.
Whenever he paused for breath, he found some water or something to drink. He was ever aware of being exposed so tried to find water in plants or puddles. It tasted like shit, but he knew he needed the liquid.
He armed himself with a vine and rocks as he traveled, trying to keep ahead of the noisy dogs and hunters. He was aware that they could be driving him towards a trap so he frequently changed directions. When he realized they were indeed driving him west, he grinned and headed south.
Along the way he used the vine as a sling, practicing with it. He wasn't very good; he couldn't hit a tree trunk with it and knew if it came down to it he'd be screwed in a fight. A sling against a rifle? He snorted at the absurdity of the thought.
Miss Naguma was amused by the hunt. This prey was smarter than the others and kept moving. He didn't try to hide, but that meant he'd run out of energy faster. That was a problem. They'd have to reign in the beaters from time to time to draw the hunt out; otherwise, it would be over too soon.
There was no video; the furry bastard took out every camera he could find. That was fine; it was another way to track him. She shook her head. A few of the club's members had wanted to participate in the hunt but couldn't get the time away. They had wanted the managers to stream the hunt to them,
but that had been a nonstarter. The authorities or Lagroose could track such a signal. They weren't worried about the authorities, but the people at Lagroose were a different story. It was prudent to be cautious.
It was time for the first shot. Senator Bezentine was up first. The elderly man wanted a ranged shot, so they had to get the chimp out into the open. Which wasn't easy, she thought. He was smart to keep to cover. Not that it would do him any good long-term.
Ah, a clearing ahead. Her nimble fingers tapped at it, placing a set of crosshairs there, then she texted him to a series of prepared hides in the area. He didn't reply, but she knew he was on his way to the nearest one. Now it was a race to see who could get there first, the chimp or the old man.
When Elliot realized the canopy was changing and more light was spilling through than he expected, he slowed his run warily. He didn't like the exposure. He stopped and listened. He could hear the occasional sound of insects and animals … but no drones. Again, not a good sign. When things got quiet, bad things happened.
Warily he went to the edge of the bush and looked at the clearing. He picked up a rock and threw it, but nothing happened. He felt foolish but decided to listen to his instincts and circle around anyway, sticking to the bush as much as possible.
He got halfway around the clearing when a shoot barked. A round hit the tree near his head. Splinters flew. He screamed in fear and flattened and then rolled out of the area. He got some trees and a rock between him and where the shot had been fired and then headed out into the deeper wood.
He realized the tablet was still being tracked somehow so when he splashed through some ferns into a bubbling stream he ditched it and the battery in the stream. He kept going, making a show of running, then spotted the tree he was looking for. He ran past it, then stopped. He turned and swung his arms and leapt. Luck was with him, he caught a low hanging limb. He pulled himself up and then higher. He moved from tree to tree until he'd passed over the stream. He dropped into a low ravine and hid there, pulling leaves over himself as the approaching sounds of people in the bush came closer and closer.