Something had disturbed those birds. He should leave and hunt where there was more game and no newcomers. But, if he abandoned this location, it would take time to set up in a new place. It would take time for his skin to readjust color. His smell would need to dissipate from the ground again. No, he’d wait. At least just a little longer.
White light flashed off to the left. The birds lifted out of the trees like an orange cloud, speeding directly over Trgyl’s hiding place. He watched the area the light had come from. His mate, Dymlr, occasionally foraged thick-spined tkrk in a small field there.
Another flash of light sparked, followed by a thin line of smoke.
Four more white flashes came. The smoke disappeared and the flashes came no more. The deep blue-green of the forest was again silent.
Trgyl waited, but no more white sparks lit up in the trees. Now he had no choice but to find a new place to hunt. Slowly, he shifted from his perch. As he dropped to the limb below, something heavy crashed through the underbrush from the direction of the light flashes. Could it be one of the newcomers?
The closer it came, the more he was sure that it was panicked, or injured. It crashed recklessly through the trees and brush. There was no obstacle large enough to make it change its course. Trgyl stopped and shifted behind a cluster of massive leaves. He unsheathed his claws and pulled his lips into a snarl, exposing his needle-sharp teeth.
A small clearing in the thick trunks and blue-shadowed brush offered the first glimpse of the oncoming creature. It was no newcomer, but a large male bryl, all but two broken spikes raised high in alarm.
Satisfaction welled up in Trgyl. That beast could feed his barrio for many days. If the other hunters had as much luck, his people would grow fat and sleek for a while.
He spread his arms, unfolding the great flaps of skin that stretched to his legs. These had stayed moist, protected as they were from the sun. His chosen blues and greens were brighter, not ashen like the rest of his skin.
Two steps before the bryl entered the circle of forest below him, Trgyl tipped forward and shoved off the branch, diving through the air. He aimed for a spot inches ahead of the charging beast.
As he passed the animal’s head, he hooked into the side of the creature’s neck just below its jaw. The sudden weight brought the blinded bryl into a crashing somersault. Giant leaves and thick stems ripped and scattered into the air all around them. Trgyl loosed himself and swung free, slicing the animal’s neck with a flick of his wrist.
The bryl struggled to right itself. Trgyl darted in, again slashing its neck. Blood founts sprayed across the clearing, coloring the leaves, trees, and stone. The bryl’s fighting quickly lessened from the loss of blood and it no longer had the strength to thrust its feet forward. The animal could only lift its head and swing it dully. And then, not even that. The bryl lay in its blood until the shivers that wracked its body ceased.
Trgyl turned and gauged the path the beast traveled through the forest. He could follow that to where those sparks of white light had flashed. Those new creatures had to be involved somehow. He could be the first from his barrio to get a close-up view of them. Could his body sustain a brief excursion to the field of tkrk? He needed liquids and food. He still had to get the bryl, many times his own weight, back to his barrio.
Trgyl kicked the bryl’s body, then started down the beast’s path.
CHAPTER
3
Pala stared at the image of her boyfriend’s body. Her heart lurched, clutching her in a sharp-edged panic. Her stomach twisted into itself as the burn of adrenalin shot through her. The sound of her breathing reverberated off the thickly corrugated walls of the surrounding jungle. Cabot dead?
As if in a trance, she shoved through dense broadleaves and long looping vines, mechanically snapping off and removing her visor as she went. Her men had seen the same thing Quade had, but they didn’t need to know the details.
The crisp smell of burnt flesh filled the air in an invisible smog. The blue-green leaves of the surrounding bushes dripped with fresh blood. Cabot's body lay propped against the fallen tree. His hands clenched his cannon, as if still guarding in death. Beside him, stretched across the ground, lay the scientist, also dead. The other ranger lay a few feet away.
Quade was hunkered low over Cabot, the fingers of his right hand pressed to Cabot’s neck. It seemed forever that Pala waited for his verdict. She held her breath, trying to force herself to see Cabot’s chest rise and fall with life.
Slinging her cannon low in front of her, Pala squatted beside Quade. When he pulled his hand away and shook his head, again the dual bite of shock and anguish ruptured within her. It balled up in her throat, and, for a minute, she found herself unable to breathe. The forest became a bubble around her. Her whole world narrowed to just Cabot’s body and her own.
Pala drew a long, shaking lungful of air as she stared at her boyfriend’s body. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been moving and breathing. She reached a shaking hand to stroke his cheek.
The burning heat of tears rushed into her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. Violently she shook her head. Not now. There was no time now. She would grieve later. Somewhere on the periphery, she was conscious that Quade stood silently, keeping watch. Those spheres were new, but they didn’t malfunction like this. They just didn’t. Someone had sent this one. There may be more following. She had to get her men away from danger, and she had to do it quickly.
Swallowing hard, she removed Cabot’s academy ring and slid it onto her hand, next to hers. Then, she reached into his pockets, checking for any other personal items. Finding none, she moved to the other ranger, and searched it. Quade searched the scientist’s body.
Clenching her jaw, Pala stood and scooped up her visor. If she looked at Cabot again, she might break down. She was filled with a sudden longing to speak to his torn body, to tell him to get up, that this trick of his had gone too far.
She hated leaving the bodies behind, and that sphere could tell them much upon examination. But, it could also lead a second sphere to them, one that might already be on its way. She had to get to her men as quickly as possible. She also had to alert the seven other base camp units. Later, when the danger was eliminated, she’d retrieve the bodies and that sphere.
Turning to Quade, Pala swiped her hand over her eyes. She flattened her hand again, fingers splayed, and followed that with two fingers together, pointing toward her troops. Finally, she closed her fist and placed it over her heart, the symbol for base camp. Leave the visors off. We’ll secure the area first, then get the men and return to base.
Quade gave a single jerk of a nod, and fell in beside her, pulling his weapon into ready position.
Pala also tucked her cannon back into the cradle of her shoulder. Together, they swept the area beneath the trees and through the brush, back and forth like two dogs on the hunt. They found no sign of anyone or anything beyond what they already knew. Pala kept guard from the trees, watching the snakegrass, the sky, and the perimeter. Quade quickly crept to the burnout in the center of the field and retrieved the last pack.
It was a standard military issued pack, except hers had just recently been replaced due to excessive wear. Somehow, as they gathered for the day's mission, he’d managed to grab her pack by mistake. She ground her fingernails into the stock of her cannon as they turned north again. They started back toward her rangers, constantly sweeping the area.
Physe was in a forward position, guarding the way in for her and Quade. The rest of the group lay in a hollow, surrounded by a natural barrier of gopher tree hillocks and shoots. All but Physe were stationed on their stomachs throughout the ‘fence-line’, cannons facing outward, with the scientists huddled together behind it, against a jumbled outcropping of ash-colored rock.
Pala crouched down among them. Good men, hers. Though, not a one of them was over eighteen. Many of them looked angry. Some showed traces of fear. All the faces were grim. Cabot had been a favorite. She took a deep breath a
nd closed her fist over her heart and then pointed to the east. They’d have to come in to base camp from a different direction. And she’d have to march them hard. Time was the most important element, now. Hopefully, the scientists were up to the pace.
While Physe and the other remaining female ranger in her unit, Suez, collected visors, Pala flicked hers on again and dialed the code for distress. Her ship would lock onto that signal and broadcast it to the seven other base camps. If her unit was the only one targeted, someone would come for them. If not, then her signal would serve as warning, maybe even pull the spheres away from any other targets.
Checking the collected visors, she noted that Physe had left many turned on. Each faced outward, showing nothing but the blue and green of vegetation. Pala dropped her visor, still transmitting, nearby, facing it outward also. Hopefully, the immobile visors might convince the attackers none of her unit had survived. It could buy them some time.
Before they could leave, there was one other small detail that needed attention. Whoever had sent that first sphere, could still send more. Each ranger carried two identification chips: one in the visor and one implanted in the wrist. She flicked out her knife. Taking a deep breath, she gritted her teeth and dug the point of the blade beneath the skin on the back of her left wrist. A spike of pain rocketed up into her elbow and she hissed through her clenched teeth. Her blood streamed from her wrist to the other side of her dark hand and off her shaking fingers. The red drops soaked into the ground with greedy speed.
She burrowed the tip of her knife underneath the chip and flicked it out of her body and onto the ground. Bending down, she picked up the device and dropped it in Quade’s outstretched hand, beside his own bloody ID transmitter chip. He handed her an illegal bottle of whiskey to disinfect the wound. Looking up, she saw that Physe and the rest of her cadets were already busy following her and Quade’s example. The sound of soft groans filled the hollow. She faced the scientists. Denten snarled while he dug for his tracking chip with his own knife. Laramie watched, waiting his turn.
The scientist Bardef, whipped his dark head back and forth, brown eyes open wide. Pala strode over to him, even as Physe and another man, wrists bloody, came up from behind. They took hold of Bardef's arms. Physe clamped his hand over his mouth, causing him to lash out at Pala with his feet. Stepping back, Pala made room for two more rangers who rushed in and grappled with the scientist’s legs. She should just knock the poor fellow out, but she didn’t have time to fool with carrying him. Even Quade would be slow with that weight.
Again she moved close. Bardef squirmed, shoving the rangers back and forth, but he couldn’t break free. Grasping his wrist, Pala saw that he fought to peer over Physe’s hand at what she was doing. She turned her back to him, blocking his view. Whether he was better off seeing or not, didn’t matter. He’d get the same treatment she’d given herself. If he didn’t like it, too bad. He should have taken care of his chip himself.
Pala pushed her knife under his skin, his muffled screams bouncing off the thick foliage. She scooped out the identification chip and handed it to Quade. The younger scientist Denten stepped past her to attend to his whimpering colleague.
While Quade dug a hole in the center of the circle of visors and buried the chips, Pala rinsed her hands and took a sip from her canteen. She watched Bardef; this would be the man who would slow them. He looked pale and his hand shook violently. The heavier gravity would take more of a toll on him than the rest, too. But, they had no time to wait for him to recover. They needed to get away from here and she wasn’t about to leave anyone behind. It looked to be a slow march. She nodded to Quade.
He swung his hand in a circle above his head and chopped it straight down toward the east. The rangers, cannons at ready, filed in a single line in the new direction, Physe leading. The three scientists lurched to their feet and fell into the middle of the line, holding their bandaged wrists. Quade pointed to Suez and another and then tapped two fingers together on his forearm, close to his elbow. The two rangers dropped to the rear of the formation.
Pala fell into line too, behind the scientists, and in front of Quade. They would travel east for now, but their path would end up as a huge reverse ‘S’ curve. Eventually they would cut across their original path north of the camp and circle around to enter from the south. Let anyone try to predetermine that.
CHAPTER
4
Trgyl kept close to the wide blue and green tree trunks at the edge of the bryl’s trail. When he drew close to the field of tkrk, he crept into the brush on the side.
Concealed behind leaves and branches he was able to see a great burnt section, nearly black, in the center of the field. He saw no newcomers. Besides the singe of the plants, the stench of blood filled the air. Mixed with that was a heated charge, like after a fierce storm. Snorting, he pinched his nose shut. His claws tingled at their base. He’d seen many times when clouds produced long jagged sparks from the sky, but it was a clear day. Still, that’s what it felt like to him. Like the bryl, he wanted to run away.
From the burnt area, a single path ran through the vines and tkrk. Farther away, another path led out of the clearing, headed toward the river in the north. He saw no movement of any kind. Slowly, Trgyl crept to the closest path. He wove silently between clustered branches and massive, swinging vines. Suddenly, he stopped. There, concealed in the weeds, were four of the newcomers. They lay against fallen logs, cushioned on a bed of leaves and bushes. Blood and bits of flesh were scattered around the scene.
Blood pooled beneath the three soft creatures. There was none around the single round hard one, though intestines lay on the ground. The charred plants around it told Trgyl that it had burned, though its shell didn’t show this. This one, Trgyl went to investigate first.
It was impossible to get close enough without stepping on the blackened ruins of plants. Trgyl unsheathed his claws, and sprang over the top of the newcomer to the nearest tree. Landing, he dug his claws in with a ‘thunk’. Flipping upside down, he started down the tree, head first. Reaching a deep gash in the tree, he paused. He brought his nose close, inhaling deeply. The heat was different than what had burnt the air.
Trgyl dropped into a little patch of bare ground next to the newcomer. He’d never seen a creature up close like this before. It had no limbs, yet he’d seen it and its kind move on their own. It was solid and uniform except where it had torn open. His fingers traveled across its skin. It felt like a chiseled rock or a dimpled egg. Reaching the torn jagged edge of the newcomer’s injury, Trgyl gently slipped his hand around the edge and inside. Tracing his fingers along the underside of the smooth shell, he felt the dry powder of burn. What kind of creature burnt inside like that, leaving nothing but a dry powder? It seemed odd to him, this lack of blood. If there had been internal organs, it should have been an oily ash.
Some of its intestines lay pocketed within the creature’s shell. They were not only charred, but also hard and stiff. The bones looked to be made of the same pieces as the skin. Was this one even a living creature?
Trgyl looked at the other newcomers. He noted how all three of the soft-bodies were in twisted positions, all facing this hard one. Whatever happened here did not bode well for those of his kind. It was as tangible as the burns on the trees and the blood in the ground.
Trgyl climbed the tree again and launched in the direction he’d left his bryl. Spreading his skin flaps, he shifted and manipulated the ropes of wind. The sun heated his skin and the hot breeze tugged at his eyelids. He gave in to the beckon of wind and let it roll beneath him, pulling him higher and higher. He shut his eyes and cut off his sight of the trees below.
What was that thing he’d investigated? The more he thought on it, the more he became convinced it wasn’t a living thing at all. Yet, things didn’t fly on their own unless pushed by the wind. Perhaps then, it rode on the wind like his people did. It would follow that the other hard-shelled objects were also merely things.
The marking
s above the hard one hadn’t been done by it, since it had no claws or limbs of any kind. They smelled different, too. Those marks must have been made by one of the soft creatures. Why would the soft creatures attack a mere tool and why would a tool attack its master?
CHAPTER
5
Pala force-marched her cadets for three hours. They navigated around clusters of blue bushes with huge flat leaves surrounding prickly spikes that resembled pineapples. They forced through tightly packed dark green shrubs intertwined with vines. The density of the vegetation held their breath close, and vapor clouds puffed from their mouths as if the weather were not tropical, but closer to freezing.
Every time the image of what had happened to Cabot flashed into Pala’s mind, she shook it away and picked up the pace. Not now. Not yet. Later. When everything was under control, then she could grieve.
The scientists made no request for a stop to examine anything they passed. It wasn’t long before the pull of gravity showed on their strained faces. Pala changed the direction of the march to the south. Sticky sweat rolled down her back and the air thickened. A storm was building. She pushed harder to keep ahead of it, forcing the scientists to keep up. Bardef slowed, stumbling occasionally. He fell to the rear of the line, just ahead of Suez and the other rangers.
Quade pushed aside a blue-spiked vine and stepped into place beside Pala.
She glanced at him and he scrutinized her face closely for a second. Frowning, he tapped his military insignia and then pointed to his temple.
Which did Pala think was behind the attack: the military or a scientist? Good question. A scientist might assume she was the highest ranking cadet because she was in command. She tapped her temple and then patted her chest. She strummed her fingertips on her insignia. Lastly, she touched her fingertips to her lips.
He narrowed his eyes and tapped his military insignia, nodding.
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