Za’at was an atypical Arzat in that he often fell into oblivion when he slept, where most others of his kind slept lightly and would immediately awaken at the slightest provocation. For Za’at, particularly as a hunter, this was a liability rather than a virtue. While sleeping, it caused him to have to rely on others to alert him in case of trouble. There were not many things he would change about himself, but that was one of them. He had meant to only lightly nap.
“Come,” he said to the remainder of the group. “Leave everything but your weapons. We can return for the rest of our things later.”
Just as they were about to depart, Za’at and the others could detect Ack returning. His distinctive scent preceded him as he made his way back to the Arzats’ temporary hiding place. Za’at thought about gutting Ack for his insubordination, but he was still too intent on a successful hunt to allow anything to get in the way of it. He resolved once again to deal with his sibling later.
“Well?” Za’at asked as Ack approached. Despite his anger, he knew Ack had been spying on the umans and was curious to know what he had seen.
“There are only two smooth-skins guarding the fire. The rest are asleep. This will be easy,” Ack replied, carefully maintaining a safe distance from the sharp end of Za’at’s killing stick.
Yes, easy you idiot—Za’at said only to himself—provided nothing goes wrong! I don’t care what mother says, you are never coming on a hunt with me again little brother. In fact, when I am done with my report to the Elders, you will be lucky to find a purpose greater than cleaning the latrines in the caves.
Off in the distance, but not as far away as it had been, he heard the frightening call of the four-legged beasts again. The Arzats called them var—highly skilled predators in their own right. Za’at was suddenly worried that the wily beasts might have the same idea as the Arzats regarding the umans. Perhaps they had sniffed out the smooth-skins as well. Perhaps, they were just as hungry.
“Let’s go,” he said, suddenly sensing the need to hurry.
* * *
As they crept toward the camp, Za’at instructed each of the Arzats to plan on taking at least two, if not three umans each.
“Creep like serpents and make not a sound,” he said, speaking to the seven of them only with the power of his mind. “I will give you the signal—then do not stop,” he warned them, “until all are completely eliminated. U’aa is showing her full face tonight, so we will have to be especially careful.”
Za’at, unlike his brother Ack, knew that it was quite possible for an uman, if they were lucky, to kill one of them if something went wrong in the attack. Aside from the completely acceptable reason of killing an Arzat for any sign of insubordination, Za’at was fully responsible for their safety in all other respects. Allowing even one of his hunters to be wounded as a result of his own bad decision might cast him as a poor leader. This thought weighed heavily upon him, especially given the unpredictability of the umans and the incompetence of his younger brother. Were he to make a mistake, he would inevitably have to answer to the Elders. The penalty for such a mistake—such an atrocity as the Arzats liked to refer to almost any violation of any sort—could be banishment or death.
Za’at pushed that unpleasant prospect aside as he and the other hunters neared the uman camp and the uman’s delicious smell wafted through his nostrils. As they crested the hill, Za’at was pleased to see the glow of the smooth-skin’s fire.
The umans were intelligent—of that he had no doubt. Unlike the other animals they hunted, these strange creatures possessed not only weapons and their own language but also the ability to make fire from nothing—a skill the Arzats had yet to master. While the Arzats used fire for many things, they themselves were forced to wait until the Great Creator hurled it from the sky and some brave hunter was able to retrieve some part of it from the resulting inferno. Once acquired, it was maintained and closely guarded as a treasure.
In the Arzat caves, the communal fire was sacred, always carefully tended and never purposely extinguished. Those that were in charge of keeping it knew their lives would be immediately forfeit were they ever to allow the flames to go out.
It had long been the secret desire of many Arzats to discover how to actually create fire from nothing as the umans apparently could, though the Arzat Priests continued to insist that this ability was just an empty rumor—that it came as a gift and only when the Great Creator chose to give it. “Perhaps they carried embers with them,” the Priests had often suggested, trying to explain how the umans, even in small numbers, always seemed to maintain a fire.
Now Za’at knew that explanation wasn’t true. As the Arzats had followed the umans during the day Za’at had carefully sniffed for any signs that they were carrying fire with them. He was certain that they had not. That, he thought to himself as he gazed at the flickering light emanating from the umans’ camp, is no rumor.
While the Arzats were by no means opposed to a meal of raw meat if necessary, they much preferred it well roasted. So the umans’ campfire meant that tonight’s meal would be cooked—an obvious rarity on hunts.
Za’at unconsciously flicked his tongue and could practically taste the charred smooth-skin flesh. He began to uncontrollably salivate again. Yes, he thought, excited about his own revelation, the umans can most definitely create fire from nothing. I should have paid more attention when they set up their camp.
He kept his eyes locked on the two guards to see if they moved or made any indication that they were aware of the Arzats’ presence. One of them seemed to doze while the other seemed quite alert.
Za’at flicked his tongue again and tested the exact direction of the breeze. He suddenly realized that it had shifted. The hunters were now approaching from up wind of the umans’ camp. It is fortunate, he thought, realizing his mistake in judgment, that the umans had such an obvious poor sense of smell. Any other Arzat prey would probably have sniffed the hunters and stampeded by now. He paused low in the grass and carefully watched the sentries nonetheless, still amazed that they hadn’t caught the Arzats’ scent.
“Baa,” he said silently when he was fully convinced they had not been detected, “you will take the closest guard. Ack, you will take the farthest one. But wait for my command.”
Za’at could sense that Ack was about to comment but then thought better of it. He tried to read Ack’s thoughts, but they were blocked. Good, he thought. Perhaps, my brother, you are finally learning some discipline. Now, we shall find out if you have any skills whatsoever as a hunter.
Za’at had purposely given Ack the most difficult assignment as a test—a side of him almost hoping Ack would fail. He realized he was taking a huge chance but suddenly found himself unable to resist the temptation. We will succeed regardless, he reasoned, totally certain that the rest of the group could make up for any of Ack’s deficiencies.
The Arzats continued creeping slowly on all fours through the grass, following Za’at’s lead. When they were less than one stick away from the closest sleeping uman, Za’at gave the signal. Without a sound, the Arzats rose simultaneously from the dark, pulled their hunting sticks from their scabbards in unison, and silently rushed the camp.
Baa and Ack moved so swiftly toward the uman guards that even Za’at had trouble following their movements. The guards each received two quick strokes through their backs and into their hearts—but the uman who had been assigned to Ack managed to make some noise as it died. The rest of smooth-skins immediately awoke and began calling out in their incomprehensible, high-pitched chatter, attempting to rise even as the Arzat hunters mercilessly struck them back down.
Za’at moved systematically through the camp, stabbing at the umans as they tried to gain their feet, furious with Ack for failing to silence the second guard and determined to correct his mistake. As he approached one of the young male offspring who was perhaps only four or five seasons old, he could see the unusual whites of its eyes in the firelight and could smell the sweet aroma of its urine as he st
abbed directly at its heart. The child weakly clutched the bloody end of Za’at’s killing stick for a moment, then released it and rolled to its side, apparently lifeless. Za’at kicked the youngster viciously for good measure and immediately moved on to his next victim.
When it was over, the Arzats carefully checked each of their kills to be sure the life was completely out of them, then gathered together and collectively howled into the dark sky.
Take that, you nasty var, Za’at thought triumphantly, as he called out to the stars. The Great Creator has been good to me this night.
* * *
Za’at assigned Ack to the more menial task of tending to the fire as the other hunters began to carefully gut and clean the smooth-skins’ entrails. He began to take inventory and was delighted. There would be lots of meat heading back to the caves and in a moment, dinner! Eight and five of the smooth-skins would last the clan several het. Not the most productive foray, he thought, as he walked back through the camp and sized up the kill, but enough to head home and prepare for another hunt.
He began to conjure the image of his party triumphantly returning to the caves loaded with the meat of their very unusual prey, hoping again that they would arrive before any of the other hunting parties, excited about the public humiliation Ack would suffer for failing to silence the uman guard, and thankful that his sibling’s mistake had not become his.
I’m afraid your hunting days are over little brother, Za’at thought, as he continued survey the camp and recount the kills. Suddenly, he felt the scales on his neck rise. Eight and five? Eight and five! Had I not counted eight and six umans earlier?
Za’at looked up and could see Ack approaching with a load of wood under one arm, his hunting stick held loosely in the other. Then, he heard a cry so high pitched and brutal that it caused him to shiver. He saw Ack’s eyes open wide as the tip of a spear ripped through his chest. Ack paused for a moment, staggered a few steps around the camp as if completely confused, and finally stumbled face first into the fire, the long end of a smooth-skin weapon protruding from his back. Behind him, just as wide-eyed, a female uman stood, swollen with child, screaming into the night.
CHAPTER 4
FIRE AND LIGHT
Alex bent down in the dark and kissed Tom’s face. “I thought we might have lost you there for a minute, Thomas,” she proclaimed. Thomas was a moniker she liked to use for him in an ironic situation, and this had definitely been one of those!
“I’m okay, Alex,” he said, still trying to shake the effects of his rather rude awakening. “Where are Mot and Ara?”
“We are right here, Tom, son of Richard,” he heard Ara say to him in his head. The sound or thought that the Arzat was creating in his mind was quite raspy but also somehow quite feminine.
Even after spending a considerable amount of time conversing with the Arzats, Tom still found their ability to telepath—and particularly his—almost impossible to believe. Now, he naturally switched from verbally speaking with Alex to using only his mind to communicate with Mot and Ara without even realizing it. The Arzats, it seemed, had no problem understanding him either way.
“Yes, Tom, we are here,” Mot added silently. “I am glad to see you are still alive.”
In Tom’s head, Mot’s “voice” manifested itself with the same scratchy, otherworldly quality as Ara’s, but it was somehow deeper, more masculine, and belied the fact that the Arzat speaking to him was really only an adolescent.
Tom laughed. “I’m happy you can see something my friend. I can’t see shit. Looks like we totally ran out of power huh, Alex?” he said, switching to his voice to utter the question. “How long were we in cryo?”
“Well, the monitor says around eight thousand years,” Alex uneasily replied, remembering exactly what the monitor had indicated, still not able to fully believe it herself. She hoped Tom would somehow miss the fact that she had caused them to oversleep by over seven thousand years!
Alex was also so relieved she hadn’t accidentally killed him that she was still on the verge of tears. Tom had not been a fan of being frozen in the cryogenic units in the first place and had thoroughly cautioned Alex about the ARC’s nuclear power supply and how long it might last. If she’d have killed him, well . . . she couldn’t even bear the thought. Not only did she love him, but it was also quite likely that Tom was the only other human on the planet besides her!
“Do you think that is even possible, Tom?”
“I have no idea Doctor—you’re the expert. It seems like I barely closed my eyes.”
“It is the same with us,” Mot said, “much like the last time.”
Alex was not completely surprised at Mot’s comment. According to the two Arzats, even their first multimillion-year sleep had only seemed like a short nap.
“I guess we’ll just have to rely on what the computer is saying for now,” Alex said.
“Wow. Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” Tom asked, trying to raise himself from the floor.
Alex suddenly realized she was shaking as much from the cold as her relief that Tom was alive. To make matters worse, she had just burned her shirt and was sitting in the cold clad only in the bra and cargo shorts she had worn into the cryogenic beds.
“Yes, now that you mentioned it.”
“Let’s see if we can get a fire going,” Tom said, unaware of Mot’s recent success in starting one. “Mot, do you still have that steel flint I gave you?”
“Yes, Tom.”
“Can you see well enough to find some fuel?”
“Ara and I can both see quite well as long as we do not move too far from the lighted box. But we can find our way very well in the dark regardless. Come, Ara,” Mot said to his mate.
The Arzats immediately disappeared into the utter black of the giant ARC.
“I should have thought about there being no light,” Tom said to Alex after the Arzats had gone. “Although I had no idea we would be in cryo for as long as we were. I had hoped that the reactors would still be running when we came out.”
Alex gulped. “I didn’t think much about it myself,” she stammered. “I guess you never really worry about power until you don’t have it, right? What about the safes?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “Do you think there is anything like a flare or something that might have survived?”
“I’m not sure, Alex. Eight thousand years? Hell, I guess we’ll just have to open them up and see. But we better wait for some light so we can even find them.”
“Okay, but in the meantime, can you warm me up a bit,” Alex said, moving closer to him. “Why is it so damn cold?”
“I don’t know. Remember, the caves we found the Arzats in? They were just like this.”
“Don’t remind me,” Alex said, recalling the night Tom had guided her into the caves where she had eventually discovered Mot and had nearly been killed in the process. Those caves had been unusually chilly, with a temperature near or below freezing, not the usual ten to fifteen degrees Celsius that was a constant in most underground labyrinths.
“There’s something good in all this, you know,” Tom said, as Alex snuggled close to him.
“What’s that?”
“Did you happen to notice that we are breathing?”
“Good point. We couldn’t possibly have air down here unless the atmosphere had cleared up top, could we?”
“Let’s hope so Alex, let’s hope so,” Tom said, wrapping his arms tighter around Alex. “I certainly don’t want to be stuck in this ARC forever, especially without power. Hey, what happened to your shirt?”
* * *
The Arzats had been gone for a long time and Tom and Alex began to worry. Apart from the cold, it was downright spooky in the dark of the building that housed the cryogenic units. The two of them finally felt their way in the near pitch black to the door of the lab and almost instantly spotted a flame across nearly the entire length of the ARC—a distance of several football fields—coming toward them at virtually impossible speed.
Tom smiled and shook his head, relieved to see the light. The Arzats had obviously fashioned a torch out of something and were now returning at their usual preternatural pace. “I’m surprised the damn thing doesn’t blow out,” Tom said, smiling, watching the light’s progress.
“No kidding,” Alex replied, equally amazed—but the paleontologist in her shouldn’t have been. The two Arzats had originally come from a prehistoric world that would have literally eaten them alive were they any less adapted. They moved like lighting and were equally as strong as they were fleet of foot—pure muscle on reptilian frames that weighed well over three hundred pounds each—making the strength of a chimpanzee or even one of the bigger great apes seem paltry by comparison.
It had been clear to Alex when she first discovered them that the Arzats must have been the direct evolutionary descendants of some branch of the theropods—dinosaurs that had walked upright on two legs and were invariably carnivores. By the end of the Cretaceous, these reptilians had not only evolved to become as intelligent as humans but they had also learned to communicate completely non-verbally when necessary by way of telepathy somehow during the evolutionary process, which was how Tom and Alex had eventually become able to communicate with them.
“I am sorry we took so long, Alex,” Mot said, as he and Ara arrived. It had been less than a minute after Tom and Alex had first spotted the light. “Ara and I stopped to make torches.”
The Arzat was barely winded. Under one arm, he had several long sticks, their ends wrapped in some kind of cloth. Under the other was a large bundle of larger pieces that looked like the ancient remnants of broken two-by-fours or something about that size. Ara was right behind him, bearing a similar load under one arm and a flaming torch in the other, no more winded than her mate.
“Where would you like me to make fire, Tom?”
IN NATURA: a science fiction novel (ARZAT SERIES Book 2) Page 3