“And you. All of you.” The young Gringg bestowed rib-cracking hugs on each of his dear friends, which left them gasping for the breath to giggle.
“Teddy is going to be able to ride out on Hunt with us tomorrow, isn’t he, Dad?” Alec asked, his tone demanding an affirmative. “Hrriss said he could have that old plodder of his.”
Todd scowled. “It may not be tomorrow. And it might not be safe. Have you considered what Captain Grizz thinks of all this?”
“Oh, she wants to go, too,” Hrrana said. “She is very interested in snake eggs. Teddy told her about his lunch that day.”
“Please, Dad?” “Please?” “Please, Uncle Zodd?”
“We will stay back where it is safe,” Hrrana promised, opening large green eyes at him. Todd sighed
“Let’s talk it over with your parents later.”
“Oh, there you are!” Ken Reeve said, peering in under the makeshift tent flap. He held up his camcorder. “Part of the frame is up, and they’re setting the braces for one wall. I thought I’d immortalize this historic moment of galactic cooperation. I’m looking for models to show the scale of the building,” he said, glancing meaningfully at the children. “Any volunteers?”
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed both Alley Cats at once, springing to their feet.
They dragged the rest of the Fearless Five behind them, although no one required much urging. Kelly and Todd, holding hands, followed more slowly.
With the same Hrruban and Hayuman skills that had raised the Friendship Bridge, a mighty, cavelike building—translated from an architectural design by Honey—was already starting to take shape. Part of the first level, which would support a solidly buttressed terrace, was cantilevered over the river, so that the water-loving Gringg could dive into the warm, tropical water from their dwelling. Todd admired its handsome lines as much as he did its symbolism.
“Gosh, your own swimming hole, right inside your house!” Alec said, catching the gist of the design immediately. “Hey, Dad, this is a great idea! Can we run a walkway right to the swimming hole? It would be terrific!”
“You wouldn’t say that in no-see-um season,” Todd said with a mock grumble.
“Aw, Dad!” the twins chorused.
Hrriss and Eonneh pulled themselves away from their conference with the senior builder, a heavy-set Gringg with a graying mane and muzzle.
“Are you pleased with what you have wrought, friend Zodd?” Hrriss asked.
“More and more,” Todd said, waving a hand at the building framework. “That’s a grand design, Honey, functional and impressive.”
The architect sighed. “It is not often such an opportunity is given. I am sorry I shall never live in it.” But he eyed his design with evident satisfaction. “Others shall stay as the permanent residents. I and my mate and offspring will only be occasional visitors.”
“Well, you’ll be welcome whenever you part space to come here,” Todd said. “We’ve certainly enjoyed your visit.”
“I contemplate with great sorrow the ending, and I thank you for the invitation to join in the Hunt festivities.”
“Couldn’t, and wouldn’t, leave you out of them,” Todd said instantly. “It’s just too bad we don’t have horses strong enough for you to take part in the Hunt itself.”
“Zat is so,” Hrriss added, dropping his jaw in a broad grin. “You make even a Big Momma Snake zink twice about attacking.”
“I will enjoy what is possible,” Eonneh said, with the usual equanimity of the Gringg, “from the shuttle.”
“Well, then, Fate protect any snake that gets in your way. In any case, you’ll be more than welcome, if only to keep our assorted offspring from haring away to find big snakes by themselves,” Todd said with a laugh. “This is the time to see Rraladoon at its best, during New Home Week. Every Rraladoonan who can scrape up the fare from Earth or one of the colonies comes home. We’ll introduce you to as many as you can tolerate meeting. They’ll spread the word about our new trade allies with no need for tall tales and embroideries. That I can promise!”
TWO MORNINGS later, sighters landed their light helicraft outside Todd’s bedroom window just after dawn to inform him that the hundreds of female snakes were nearly finished with their egg-laying in sandy dunes. Between one breath and another, Todd roused out of a sound sleep to full organizational mode. As he dressed, he reviewed one or two points that he wanted Robin to check out, but despite the overlapping problems with Spacedep and the Gringg, long familiarity with Snake Hunts assured him that they were ready for the snakes. Robin was a good organizer and meticulous with details, so Todd anticipated few problems. But then, the snakes might not cooperate. They could create glitches almost as if they were testing the Hayumans and Hrrubans who had invaded their traditional routes. Years of coping had provided ample experience to handle anything that could possibly happen. He hoped!
Fortified by a good breakfast, he and Hrriss reined their Hunt horses in the middle of the village square in front of the Assembly Hall. The peripheral support personnel—Sighters, Beaters, Lures, Wranglers, and First-Aid crews—as important as the Teams who herded the snakes along the way, were all accounted for. The complements of the individual Teams were still assembling, their Team leaders checking each person to ensure that gear was in proper order and appearance. The Aids were well supplied with traditional medical gear, plus big tubes of the healing salve vrrela, good for any general wound, but a sovereign remedy for rroamal poisoning. The mere touch of the toxic vines was enough to raise large welts even on furred skin. Team members carried tubes of the salve as well, but it wasn’t just Team riders who blundered into the poisonous weed.
Experienced Hayuman and Hrruban hunters wore “chaps and straps” to protect them against rroamal and the thin whips of young branches that scored flesh on a hell ride through the forest. Hardhats were buckled across chins and inspected for soundness. Where a Team had green riders, one member was assigned as “wrangler” to assist those who might have trouble controlling their horses in the excitement of the Hunt.
The square was crowded with double the indigenous population of Rraladoon, included many who got vicarious thrills from observing those who were qualified to participate in the Hunt, as well as visiting dignitaries from planetary governments all over Hrruban and Hayuman space.
Not only did the Hunt provide a real boost to the treasury of the colony, it attracted enough competent people to help the resident conservationists drive the snakes safely back to their natural preserve with a minimum of loss. Even when there had been few riders to control the thousands of reptiles moving, wholesale killing had been prohibited; the most ardent ProLife fanatic admitted to the necessity for discreet culling of a species whose females each laid hundreds of eggs, a large proportion of which survived natural disasters.
The decision of a safety kill or capture of a certain number of snakes was the prerogative of the Hunt Masters, requiring split-second decisions during the high excitement of the Hunt. Fresh snake meat was a delicacy, generally only available during Hunt season or when marauding young males attacked outlying farms.
Todd and Hrriss checked with each Team leader that all riders had snake sacks and operational handsets. Someone always forgot these essentials. As usual, there was one young rider who protested having to wear a poxy belt unit which he was certain would hamper him. Hrriss gave him the cold-eyed stare of a person who did not wish to argue.
“No handset, no Hunt, young man,” Hrriss said firmly. Grumbling gracelessly, the Hayuman took the unit and retreated out of sight of the Masters of the Hunt.
The onlookers framed the main square, keeping a judicious distance from the heels of excited horses cavorting and showing off. Old hands at this Hunt, like Todd’s Gypsy, Hrriss’ Rrhee, and the old mares that Errala and Hrrin used, calmly circulated, miraculously avoiding a kick or a bite.
“Sappers?” Todd asked, checking
his pad.
“I have hrrrd from Hrrol,” Hrriss confirmed, pointing a sharp claw at his pad to underscore that entry. “She says zey have finished laying mine charges under bridges, and blockading with fences, zorns, and razor wire over all other accesses leading to vulnerable targets. Zey are spread out along ze route for stragglers, particularly the old Space Center.” Hrriss was not above grinning at Todd over that. “Lures are ranged along the route, and zere are relief and backup riders ready to accompany the Teams.”
The Lures, mounted on dirt bikes, were trained in their function—to attract renegade snakes of any size and “lure” them back to the main drive. Their bikes and persons were liberally smeared with bacon fat, redolent and irresistible to snakes.
“Great,” Todd said. “We’ve got about half an hour before we have to ride out. I’d better let the guests get into position.” He informed the heli pilots.
The excited clamor, mostly from first-time Hunters—duffers in Rraladoonan parlance—vied with the hacking sound of copter blades beating the air, the impatient whinny of the occasional horse, and the general babble among old friends reuniting after long separation as Rraladoon prepared for its annual event. While duffers were permitted to accompany hunting teams, they could not participate in the more difficult and dangerous occupations of Beater or Lure, though over the years, some off-world Hunters who showed the proper amount of care and skill could be “promoted” to Hunter status. Few had the patience to be accorded that honor. Many of the duffers who joined in only wanted to have a crack at “one of the big ones,” a Great Big Momma Snake, reptiles that reached up to sixteen meters in length. For the ardent predator, the Rraladoon snake provided a sufficiently dangerous prey, and there were many who wanted the accolades that came with bringing in either two live snakes or twelve intact eggs. For a Rraladoonan, it was a Coming of Age Ritual but Hunter-mentalities of all ages vied to meet that challenge.
Pet ocelots, who hunted alongside their masters and mistresses, now huddled underneath horses’ bellies or sat on pillions behind their owners’ saddles. Hrriss was running a new ocelot this year, Gerrh, a cub of his two beloved pets, Prem and Mehh, who were getting too fat and lazy to run beside horses. The spotted cat sat bolt upright on back of the shifting mare, his tail curled around his haunches much as his master’s was. Most Hrrubans tucked their long tails down inside chaps or bandaged them to one leg to prevent accidents.
As one of the Masters of the Hunt, Todd stood up in his stirrups, one hand on Gypsy’s neck to steady him. In a stentorian voice, he ran through his usual caveat.
“We are not here to decimate the snake population. If that’s your intention, you can stay right here in this square when we move out,” he announced, eyeing the crowd. “The Hunt is for the purpose of controlling the flow of the snakes, driving them back into the salt marshes after they’ve spawned. When those females come off the dunes, they’re hungry! There is plenty of food for them in their regular habitat. Our task is to prevent them from stopping off for a snack on the way.” There was appreciative laughter from the crowd.
A timid hand went up among the riders. “But what if a snake attacks me?” a young Human visitor asked. Her riding coat was so new Todd fancied he could see the mark on the cuff where the bar code had been.
“If you should be so unlucky as to have a snake attack you, call in your position and then get out of the way as fast as your horse can carry you; and a snake-chased horse really moves! If flight’s not an option, shoot as straight as you know how,” Todd said. “That one’s for the stewpot. If a snake attacks and gets a taste of blood, it’ll go for any hunter near it next year. We call them ‘renegades’ and they’re killed to prevent real trouble later. The snakes that proceed peaceably back into the marshes are to be left alone. Don’t provoke them! You don’t know what they’re capable of. Do not mingle in the main swarm; just flank it. You don’t want a snake running up your horse’s leg to get a chunk of you!” He grinned then. “I assure you Rraladoonan horses will do their best to keep you clear all by themselves. If you hot-dog, endangering yourself, your mount, or anyone else, the leader of your Team has full right and responsibility to sideline you for the duration. If you don’t want to spend the rest of the day in a snake blind, listen to your leader and obey any orders. He or she knows how to save your life. Any questions?”
There were a lot of brash mutters as the inexperienced Hunters mulled over Todd’s remarks. It got louder and more intense as the Gringg, led by Kodiak, appeared on foot over the span of the Friendship Bridge.
Fifteen or twenty of the huge aliens had elected to join the Teams, to the amazement and enthusiasm of some of the returning Rraladoonans, and the nervousness of others. Todd was unhappy to see that there was still some distrust among his folk for their newest allies, but he hoped the Gringg performance in the Hunt might alter die-hard notions.
Since there were no horses up to the weight of an adult Gringg, they had agreed to work as assistants to the Beater Teams, whose task was to make enough noise to scare an escaping snake back into the mass. The job was by no means a sinecure. Since the Beaters drove tractors and other light farm machinery fitted with heavy snake-bars, the crews were equipped with noisemakers, flails, and, for use as a last resort, heavy-caliber handguns, anything that could persuade a snake to return to the stream heading south toward their natural habitat.
Todd had Kodiak brief the other Gringg on the safety procedures and then pointed out which driver each Gringg would accompany. Beater Teams One and Two, stationed nearest the spawning sands, got two Gringg apiece.
“Heavy artillery,” said a grinning Mark Dautrish, the wheelman for Beater One. He reached down to give Big Paws and Koala a hand up into the cab of the wide-bucket heavy-duty tractor, one of the largest on the planet. It was effective in blocking snakes’ escape routes among the marsh grasses, and Mark was a wizard in the things he could make his rig do, should push come to shove.
“Move ‘em out!” Todd cried as he saw all the Gringg on board their designated vehicles. He pumped a fist in the air. With a roar of engines, the Beaters departed to take up their positions, followed by the Lures, mounted on nippy dirt bikes that looked all too flimsy for the work they had to do.
With Grizz and Eonneh riding in the farm hover truck, Kelly drove slowly enough for the five children to follow on their horses. She also didn’t want to bottom the truck with all the weight it currently carried. With her huge arms folded neatly across her belly, Grizz sat with the utmost dignity in the front seat, her bulk crushing Kelly up against the door—rolling the window down gave Kelly the opportunity to lean her upper torso outside. Honey, filling the rear seat, was armed with his ubiquitous pad and stylus. The youngsters were leading Kelly’s mare, Calypso, and Alison had a lead rein on Teddy, who was mounted on Rock, the calmest horse in Hrriss’ stable. This time the young Gringg sat on a much more professionally modified pack saddle, cushioned by deep fleeces and surrounded by rolls of canvas that acted like a safety belt, preventing him from falling out of the saddle. As the truck reached the square, Kelly hooted the horn to clear a space for her to maneuver the truck inside the crowd, and waved furiously to get Todd’s attention. Hrriss noticed her and trotted over.
“Nrrna and the farm managers are lined up at the ranch fences with heavy guns and dynamite in case of tiddlers! Where do you want us?” she called over the din.
”You and ze children go wiz Llewellyn Carn’s Beaters toward Boncyks’ farm,” Hrriss said, checking them on his list, “wherrre the woods end.”
“Right you are!” Kelly saluted cheerfully and set the hover truck moving in the right direction. In her rearview mirror, she could see the youngsters urging their horses after her, east toward the river, disappearing among the houses and trees at the edge of town.
“Four Zeams filled and dispatched, twenzy-seven to go,” Hrriss informed Todd.
“There you are!” Jilamey exclaimed,
forcing his horse through the crowd. The entrepreneur was clad in new and flamboyant riding gear that had nevertheless been chosen with the perils of the Hunt in mind. His hand-unit radio and voder were clipped to crossed bandoliers in the center of his chest where they wouldn’t interfere with free movement. After Todd’s initial reproof, Jilamey always wore every bit of the compulsory Hunt safety gear, even adding a few pieces of equipment that he considered necessary. His saddlebow was hung with quivers, one full of short spears, another of crossbow quarrels to fit his custom-made, fast-reload weapon, including some marked with the red seal for high explosive. The sedately clad Barrington followed closely behind his master in the small, but very speedy flittercar. Responding to an over-the-shoulder nod from Jilamey, he parked the vehicle beside the Assembly Hall, and disappeared inside.
“Old Overprotective’s going to help cook this time!” Jilamey said with an impish grin that made him look like a balding faun. “Out of my way at last. I’m ready, able, and oh-so-willing! Bring on the snakes!”
“Good to see you,” Todd said, chuckling. “Now that you’ve arrived, our Team is present and accounted for. Take a position next to Hrrin and Errala.” Jilamey nudged his horse until it edged in between the two Hrrubans.
“We musst all move to our assigned places,” Hrriss said.
“Then, my old friend, let us go!” Todd’s grin was as much for the memories of past Hunts as it was for the present one. The stresses and problems of the recent past were all behind them. This Hunt was now!
A Sighter flew in overhead. The copter swooped low, facing the Hunt Masters. Through the open hatch, Dar Kendrath waved wildly to get Todd’s attention. He pointed to his wrist and held up one finger, then five more. The main swarm would reach the dunes in about fifteen minutes.
“That’s cutting it close,” Todd said to Hrriss, giving Dar the thumbs-up sign that he understood the message. He stood in his stirrups, twisting around at his waist. “At the trrrrrrot, forward!” he yelled, swinging his arm over his head in an age-old gesture.
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