Space Chronicles: The Last Human War

by Dean Sault

  Simon’s heart pounded. It was clear what would have happened if he had climbed down from his safe haven only moments earlier.

  How long do I wait before dropping down from my safe perch? What direction should I go? I’m sure not heading north.

  After watching the hicay attack, it became apparent there was no hope of finding an effective weapon against these killers. His only defense would be to put as much distance as possible between himself and each beast. Fortunately, the one below would be feeding for a while. In that instant, Simon realized he must leave—immediately.

  The young man summoned all his courage and climbed down from his shelter. He headed southeast as fast as he could travel and only interrupted his pace long enough to take food and water. Each time he stopped, he took the precaution of climbing a tree so he could eat safely.

  Toward the end of the day, he found a tree that was unusually large. Its gnarled bark made for easy climbing. Main lower limbs were much thicker than those from his previous night’s perch. While eating seeds, he noticed the jungle looked different here. Vegetation was not as dense and more light came through openings in the jungle canopy. He could even see patches of blue sky.

  Framed in one of those sky openings was a rocky peak, towering in the distance. It called to him, just as the jungle had when he was back in the Tanarac quarry. The allure was irresistible.

  Simon stared at the mountain peak while he ate. After climbing down from the tree, he began a purposeful drive toward that distant peak, stopping only once to replenish his fruit supply at a Topi tree.

  Approaching darkness demanded sanctuary, so he sought out the nearest hardwood tree and climbed to safety. After weaving vines to create a primitive nest, he inserted small branches, thick with leaves, into the latticework. The leaf padding proved far more comfortable than his bare-wood perch did the night before.

  Simon looked forward to the night’s rest. He was almost asleep when noisy rustling came from bushes below. To his shock, it was not a jungle creature that emerged, but two heavily armed Tanarac soldiers. They entered the clearing with handheld lights illuminating the area.

  He had seen alien soldiers before in camouflaged uniforms at a quarry dedication ceremony. These men were hunting him. There was no other explanation. To the best of his knowledge, no Tanarac ever entered the Central Jungle looking for “runners.” Crazy humans were simply allowed to die, presumably at the fangs of hicays. Only a personal attack on a Tanarac by a human might provoke such an exception.

  They’re looking for me. I won’t make it easy for them.

  The young man did not move a muscle while the soldiers set up camp below. He noticed how much larger and heavily muscled these soldiers were than typical Taskers. They were even a darker blue skin. The leader seemed to be struggling with a malfunctioning communicator. After attempting to use it several times, he chittered something in anger and threw it to the ground.

  Soldiers set out four area lights and ate some kind of rations. When done, the leader spoke to his comrade who immediately obeyed by slipping into a sleeping bag. The leader leaned against his pack with some kind of weapon resting across his thighs.

  Simon listened to sounds of the jungle and watched the soldiers take turns on guard-duty. At some point, he must have dozed off because when he awoke, the soldiers had exchanged places. He could not judge how long he had slept.

  That night seemed like it would never end. He wondered if they would discover him in morning light. Trapped, his only option was to remain motionless and hope for an opportunity to escape. Maybe they would leave in the morning without even noticing him.

  Despite spending his entire life in work camps, this was the first time the former POW camp worker felt like Tanaracs were his enemies. His lifetime of programming portrayed them as benevolent caretakers. Now, he truly feared them.

  The edge of the horizon began turning the faintest blue, and jungle features started to become recognizable. Simon’s adrenaline surged. Despite lack of sleep, he was ready to flee at the first chance.

  The soldier on guard-duty nodded, his head slumping onto his chest as he lost his struggle to remain awake. The second scout was fast asleep in his sleeping bag.

  Simon’s thoughts raced.

  Maybe I should run now while they’re both sleeping.

  The guard shook his head in an effort to stay awake and glanced around the clearing. He even glanced up in the direction of Simon’s hiding place without noticing the human tucked among the leaves of the improvised nest.

  Simon tensed.

  With his complete attention on the soldiers, he failed to notice the telltale silence that befell the jungle. The change in jungle pitch, however, was not lost on the soldiers below. The guard made a subtle clicking sound to his sleeping comrade, and, in one swift motion, both soldiers stood with their weapons at the ready. Positioned back to back, they peered into the jungle around them.

  A bush moved. A twig broke. Another bush moved ever so slightly. Then, the jungle erupted around the soldiers. Hicays attacked from several hiding places simultaneously. In the dim light before sunrise, the flash from a soldier’s pulse weapon temporarily blinded Simon. A hicay screamed. He could not tell if the animal was in pain or reacting in anger.

  The attack was brief. Hicays retreated into bushes, staying just out of sight but making no effort at being quiet. Moments later, they attacked again. Several more flashes exploded from soldiers’ weapons, although this time, there were no hicay shrieks of pain.

  Bright energy bursts made it difficult for Simon to see. He could only listen to the skirmish below as attacks and weapon discharges repeated several times over the next few minutes. The hicays seemed to have adjusted to the soldier weapons, using nearby brush for cover until they attacked, and then retreating quickly, before the soldiers could take proper aim.

  The mass attacks ended as quickly as they began. Soldiers packed up their camp in a hurry. They chirped excitedly, but he had no idea what they were saying.

  The scouts disappeared into the jungle in the same direction from which they had come. Deep-throated growls followed them and grew distant as the beasts stalked the soldiers.

  Even though the hicay sounds were gone, Simon was afraid to descend. He filled his water pouches with condensation from the morning mist and stored them while he waited for some indication that it was safe to leave.

  A small fern at the far edge of the clearing brushed aside and out waddled several baby chukkas, rooting under jungle mulch in search of food. Moments later, adults joined them, and the usual jungle sounds returned.

  Taking his cue from the jungle creatures, Simon dropped into the midst of the chukka pack, sending startled animals scurrying in every direction. He ignored their snorts and hurtled a scampering animal as he ran in the direction of the rocky peak.

  His pace carried new urgency. It was no longer enough for him to survive the jungle. Soldiers were hunting him.

  Chapter 9

  Dr. Hadje’s fear came to pass only two days later. The Governing Council met in emergency session, and General Tragge’s impassioned words rang out with greater impact than ever before.

  “How many times must I come before you?” He pounded the podium with his fist. “How many times must I beg this assembly of learned governors to exercise the strength of will and good judgment to put the interests of our people above our noble experiment with humans? For three hundred years, we acted in good faith. For three hundred years, we lived by higher standards than any other race in the galaxy,” he paused for effect, “and, for those three hundred years, our people suffered. Why? To protect humans from extinction. Yes, we honored our moral code,” the general emphasized each word, “for three . . . hundred . . . years.”

  General Tragge took a sip of water. The skilled military-politician knew there were growing numbers of pragmatists in government who were deeply concerned about the price Tanarac paid for living by higher principles.

  The human attack at Quarry 3
3 seemed clear. Three hundred years of sacrifice might have been in vain. Humans were still violent. The wily general believed if he allowed time for his peers to wrestle with the dilemma, they would be more receptive to his solution. After a carefully planned delay, the general cleared his throat into his microphone. Discussion subsided.

  “My fellow Tanaracs, I would never violate any of our deeply held principles, nor would I ask any of you to do so. We are a peace-loving race.”

  He knew this was exactly what moderate politicians needed to hear.

  “I submit to you my proposal for debate. The Human Solution Act is quite simple and remains consistent with Tanarac principles. No harm will come to a single human living under our protection. They will continue to live in peace, enjoying all the benefits they presently have, until the end of their natural life spans. My bill simply directs that we cease human reproduction at our Human Genetics Institute. Let the experiment end. In less than half of a Tanarac lifetime, we will be free of the burdens we have endured for three centuries. It is ethical. It is necessary.”

  General Tragge aimed a clicker at a large screen nearby and a picture of Simon appeared before the council.

  “As evidence to support the necessity for my Human Solution Act, I submit my report on a recent incident at Quarry 33. This violence illustrates the failure of our present human policies better than any words I can offer. Read it. Read it, before you vote. Thank you for your patience and consideration.”

  Dr. Hadje offered a rebuttal, arguing passionately against the general’s motion. He branded the proposed law as slow genocide, but when asked for a plausible alternative to the general’s plan, he had nothing to offer but the same old failing programs.

  The Council deliberated less than a day, and the general’s proposal passed. The doctor saw his life’s work ending. Humanity was condemned. The Human Solution Act became law.

  The scientist-politician could not sleep for days. Most of the time, he sat stoically in an overstuffed chair, ruminating about what had gone so terribly wrong.

  “Why did my genetic alterations fail?” he asked himself aloud. “My theories seemed so sound. How does some human DNA manage to re-integrate itself after being altered?”

  This was a persistent and troubling pattern. Genetic changes to diminish aggression worked in some humans but not all. Why? How could human DNA spontaneously repair itself?

  The head of Human Affairs fretted about his scientific and diplomatic failure.

  “If only I had a piece of the male’s skeleton. Perhaps there is an explanation. If only—”

  He bolted upright in his chair.

  “That’s it!” Dr. Hadje shouted.

  The obsessed scientist grasped at the slim possibility and found a thread of hope.

  “Simon’s DNA is the key,” he talked to himself as he got dressed. “If there is a logical explanation for the human’s behavior, then perhaps I can offer the Council doubt about their decision. The vote was very close. If I can change only two Governor’s minds, I might save this program . . . and the human race.”

  His depression lifted in an instant. He crossed the room to an antique desk next to his bed. A frayed, hardcover journal lay at the center of his desktop, opened to its last few yellowed pages. He read his life diary entry from two days before. It chronicled the impending extinction of a galactic race due to his political and scientific failure.

  The page to the right was blank. He tapped it with a single finger while he thought. It had yet to be written. Tanarac tradition held that when you die, your life journal, written in your own hand using the ancient, family stylus on thick parchment, would be enshrined in your library to stand forever as a testament to your contributions in life.

  After some time, Dr. Hadje took his ancestral writing quill, passed down through many generations, and dipped it a little deeper into the inkwell than necessary. Extra ink would create a bold entry, an entry that would stand out to all who might someday judge his life. He entered the date, and wrote one simple sentence.

  “If it takes the rest of my life, I will find the human, Simon.”

  Chapter 10

  The jungle changed as Simon approached the mountain. Large ferns vanished, replaced by distant cousins a third the size. Instead of soft mulch of the jungle floor, dry twigs cracked under his worker boots. Hardwood trees stood in the open with no moss on their bark or vines growing up from the ground. Blue sky replaced dense jungle canopy.

  He felt naked and exposed without the jungle foliage. He considered returning to the jungle but could not bring himself to turn away from the looming mountain peak.

  Occasional bare-rock mounds thrust up through the soil. Sitting on one to rest while eating fruit and drinking water, he could see long distances in any direction. He glanced wistfully back at the jungle, and then ahead at the mountain that appeared much larger now. Long foothills extended from the base of the mountain far out into the jungle. He counted his fruit supply.

  Sparse vegetation allowed Simon to travel faster, and he reached the edge of the foothills just before dark. It was time to find shelter for the night.

  A solitary large tree sat on top of a nearby rise. It was different from the jungle hardwoods. Bark was smoother and climbing more difficult.

  After several attempts, Simon managed to reach a large branch at a safe elevation. His fingertips hurt, having been scraped and bleeding from the effort. Once in place, he noticed there were no vines to secure him for the night.

  Slipping back to the ground, he uprooted nearby saplings to build a pad and tethers on his tree perch. His body demanded repayment for sleep deprivation of the night before, and after securing himself in his lofty nest, he fell into a deep sleep.

  Morning brought a chill. He tucked his hands into his tunic’s insulated pockets while studying his new environment. Where was the water? There was no thick fog like inside the jungle. For some reason, the mist suspended short of these foothills. He realized he would have no life-giving source of water anywhere close to this tree perch.

  In checking supplies, there were two skins of water left and three branches of fruit pods. He glanced up the nearby foothill and calculated that he could explore the rocky slopes for two days before he must return to the jungle for food and water.

  Do hicays leave the jungle? I hope not.

  Classes taught that they evolved as jungle dwellers and rarely ventured into open areas, like the mining zones, so he decided to take the risk. Besides, events of the prior night made Simon’s decision easy. Unknown perils in hills could not be a greater threat than Tanarac soldiers.

  Simon wondered why these hills drew him so strongly. In the past three days, he learned to trust his instincts. This would have to be no different.

  The slow, steady climb up rocky slopes was far more difficult than it appeared. Fingertips bled as he crawled across abrasive volcanic rocks. After skirting a large boulder, he discovered a faint trail following natural contours of the hill. It headed toward the distant mountain peak and allowed him to walk upright, providing welcome relief for his hands.

  Multiple small hoof prints of some kind of mountain creature showed in loose gravel in flat spots, but there was no sign of hicays. He stopped occasionally to take nourishment and keep his bearings so he could return to the jungle in two days for food and water.

  Simon came to a fork in the trail. Both paths seemed to continue upslope, but the mountain’s peak showed above the path to the right, making his decision easy.

  After topping a small rise, the chosen path began to descend into a long, narrow valley, filled thick with jungle plants. Growth looked so dense that he wondered if he could even pass through it. A flock of small birds near the edge darted around some kind of flowering bushes, while, farther down the canyon, a single large bird soared majestically above lush treetops. There was no sign of large animals like hicays. The far end of the valley was beyond sight where the canyon wrapped around the mountain to vanish between two massive cliff walls
.

  That looks like a small jungle. I’ll bet I can find food there. Is that a Topi tree? He marveled at the sight of a fruit bearing tree just inside the beginning of the canyon jungle.

  Despite the valley’s food possibilities, Simon was more interested in continuing up the slope toward the mountain. He returned to the fork in the trail and tried the second path. To his relief, it continued upward and turned directly toward the distant peak.

  Sharp mountain shadows developed as Tanarac’s first sun approached sunset. He knew he must find shelter for the night. A crack in the nearby mountainside looked just wide enough for a man to enter. It had a large boulder wedged in the top, creating a narrow cave slightly taller than a man, and offering protection against the elements, as well as being defensible.

  The young man stashed his fruit and empty water pouches at the back of the shelter and headed back to explore the small canyon below for food. The first time Simon had looked down on the valley, he thought he saw a Topi tree fairly close to the beginning of the vegetation. If true, its fruit might extend his time indefinitely in these hills.

  There it was. Only a few dozen meters into the dense undergrowth, a Topi tree, its branches bowed under the heavy weight of ripe fruit pods.

  Simon wasted no time working his way to the food source. To his surprise, the vegetation he saw from the path above was actually a canopy, covering a vibrant ecosystem. Even soft mulch below his feet felt the same as on the Central Jungle’s floor.

  He broke off several large branches of seedpods to add to his stash. As he headed back to his cave, he delighted in his discovery. Strategically placed stores of food could extend his range of exploration. He smiled at his good fortune.

  Loaded down with fruit, Simon reached the fork and turned up the path leading to his small shelter. Crunching noise in gravel behind him caught his attention. He looked over his shoulder, expecting to see one of the hoofed mountain animals. A golden-haired hicay looked straight into his eyes. It was walking right in his footsteps less than a hundred meters behind.