“Small game, waste of time. What about Pulima Cos herself?”
“As of yet, nothing substantive.”
Now he was more angry than impatient. “Why all of this mystery? Why is it that we climb hills when the mountain is still before us?”
“Because of this.” Borobos ordered the lights dimmed. Moments later the view screen illuminated and on it appeared an image of what had to be the destroyed facility’s interior. There was little of significance to see. Empty corridors, noisy equipment, people working. Very boring, Poxiciti thought.
That was until Borobos touched him on the shoulder and whispered, “Now watch carefully. You saw the destruction. Now you will see the destroyers.”
He did as he was told, seeing a guard suddenly appear and angle into the main corridor. She went outside. Now the events quickly unfolded. Poxiciti was unprepared for what he saw next. He straightened up the moment he saw what came inside. It was astonishing, unbelievable! He sat riveted in his chair and stared in stunned silence.
“What is that thing?” someone gasped out behind him. Everyone was speechless. The big pack killers they knew of, but the one leading them was something entirely different. A small, repulsive thing, barely half the size of the segathars, its waist bound with skins, its head covered with fur.
Up until that moment Poxiciti had been rigid with concentration, but the magnitude of what he was seeing suddenly struck home and he leapt out of his chair and shouted, “Why their actions suggest a simple plan! Create a diversion, draw the guard outside. Then attack! Is it possible there is some intelligence within their bestial brains after all?”
“I believe so,” Borobos replied. “These segathars appear to be thinking ahead. The strange one who leads them. See how it opens its hole and emits the same noises? It points and one goes that way. Points again and the other one goes that way. Could that be communication?”
“Very possible,” he agreed.
The next scenes were grizzly ones, and few in the audience could look on while the segathars closed in and finished off the workers in brutal but efficient fashion. Even more dramatic was the small creature’s method of attack. It made no use of teeth or claws, but instead rendered death by throwing what looked remarkably like a spear—in fact it was.
Again Poxiciti rose to his feet, utterly astonished. “My eyes see it. My ears hear it. And yet my brain rejects it. Borobos, are these images real?”
“What you are seeing is no illusion,” she calmly assured him. “It is very real.”
“This is inconceivable,” he protested. “A feral animal cannot know the workings of a spear, much less determine its killing purpose.”
“Evidently it is not feral, nor is it an animal of bestial nature. It has a thinking brain. And it has a spear, so train your mind to accept this as fact because you will be the better for it—especially if you should happen to cross its path.”
“There is more to be seen here,” Borobos advised him.
“Still more? Then I certainly hope there are no more heart stopping surprises. I do not think the shock of what I have seen so far has worn off yet.” He settled back into his wet chair as the projection continued.
Again they watched the proceedings in rapt attention, saying little, thinking less. They had no idea at all what the creatures were communicating to each other. However it was soon obvious that the purpose of their planned attack was to liberate another segathar from one of the animal pens. Until this night no one had ever witnessed such a thing. And then they saw the image of the gun in the creature’s hand, blasting the door open. Most of the spectators, including Poxiciti, wanted to believe that what they were seeing was simply being misinterpreted. However, when two of the segathars returned with wood and piled it onto the floor all his doubts immediately crumbled away.
“Is that...?”
“Fire,” Inelefar said. “Crudely done, but yes, fire.”
“Incredible. The rubbing together of two sticks to create friction, heat, then combustion. Our own ancestors might have done it that same way.” As Poxiciti watched the flames spread higher he then moved in sudden remembrance of events long past. “I know this creature. Remember Betelgesel? That was so long ago only the memory of it now comes to mind. Once I stood in its animal lair, saw its spoor, poked its fire. Only then it was a mystery. Now it has made itself known to us. A creature who plots death and kills with its brain. And uses our guns. This is a strange world and there must be yet even stranger things out there, as evidenced by what we have seen here today.”
“Surely this threat you speak of is a limited one,” Tosostenos, once Midlothian’s military strategist, said. “Even if proven to be intelligent are we now to quake in fear of it just because it brandishes a gulun gun? I carry one too, and I’m certainly no threat to the empire.”
“Stupidity abounds in this room. Think,” Poxiciti told them all. “If it can communicate with the segathars, and it knows how to make fire, then . . .”
“Then the segathars must also know how to make fire.”
“Precisely. So now if we follow this reasoning to its logical end then we can also assume that if it knows how to use a gulun gun . . .”
Borobos lifted both hands to her face so shocking was this revelation. “Could such a thing be possible?”
“To accept what we are theorizing we must first abandon all presumptions. These segathars have proved to be far more clever than even we could have imagined. Obviously their motives are guided by planning and mutual co-operation. Even more importantly they know we are their enemy since it was our installation which they destroyed. And because they were successful I can only assume there will be more of these kinds of raids in the near future.”
“This will only bring death to them that much sooner,” Nalanusat said gravely. “If Pulima Cos learns of this creature’s existence—and she will—then I see a swift end not only to it, but to the segathars as well.”
“You are right,” Borobos agreed. “She will stamp them out completely, burn down the forests, ruin the entire planet if only to conceal this one terrible truth. And that is we are stealing their world away from them. We are all hypocrites to our own beliefs. Our most fundamental law is to preserve life, and yet our very presence here brings sure death to the creatures we wish to save.”
“Even worse,” Inelefar said. “Everything we’ve worked for and believed in will ultimately be used to aide Pulima Cos in their extinction.”
“So what are we to do?” Nalanusat asked despairingly. “Hide the truth and the creatures die for profit. Reveal it and they die for Epiphilinian colonialism.”
“The survival of this species is our first and greatest concern.” Poxiciti closed his one eye for a moment, thinking of a way to frame this so unpalatable solution. “Some of you may not appreciate this because it means the end of all hope of staying here. We have been polluting for so long we forget our mistakes only to discover we are repeating them now. This is not our world to save, so we must return to Epiphiline if we are to find true salvation.”
Those in the audience broke into an heated debate. Borobos lifted her hand and made a firm gesture for silence. “Poxiciti has spoken very clearly of what we all must do. We must find indictable evidence against Pulima Cos. Even she cannot escape her own laws. We are very close, but not close enough that she cannot wriggle free and close her fists on us. Remember that a wounded animal fights more viciously than a hungry one.”
“That we must do,” Nalanusat said. “Pursue her, catch her, and convict her. We have no other choice.”
Speaking like a true scientist, Poxiciti said, “What we have all witnessed here today is a discovery of immeasurable scientific importance. We must not forget that either. Somewhere in the uncharted wild forest is a thinking creature like us. And whoever finds it will be the first to make contact with an intelligent life-form other than ourselves.”
Apparently for the moment their curiosity outweighed their conviction. And as they discussed the sit
uation none realized that Pulima Cos had been all but forgotten. Poxiciti, deep in his own thoughts, stood in the corner by himself.
He was already thinking of ways to capture it.
Chapter Twenty Four
“What is it that you see up there?” Krugjon asked.
Ilon lay motionless on his back. Beside him the fire sputtered out then burst back to life as a globule of animal fat dripped down. When the black smoke lifted, the bright stars soon reappeared and the night was still again. “When you could see, did you ever look up at the sky and wonder how many other worlds are out there?”
“No. Never,” he confessed. “I have heard others talk of such things. Thinking as you do I can imagine that there must be an uncountable number, and yet I wonder how many of them are free, living in peace.”
Sitting up, Ilon sliced off a bolt of blackened meat, pushed it into his mouth and lay back down. “If you want to be free, Krugjon, then you must conquer whatever is keeping you a prisoner.”
He dredged up memories of the past that for Krugjon were bitter reminders of his life still yet to come. “My mate died. My child died. I am blind. All this because of these accursed Iranha. You say that if we fight them then we become free. I think there is nothing you would not risk to bring this about. How many of us must die to prove this sky bright future you speak of belongs to the Iranha instead? I see no victory for us. My only wish before dying is to taste their blood.”
Undoubtedly no argument would sway his decision; he was so sure that his death was imminent. What Ilon needed was something that would permanently change his gloomy outlook. This trek they were on might just do that, bring about the change he desired. Of course his attempt might fail—he knew that could happen too—although this time he was convinced that these Egris were finally ready to fight.
“We must learn from our mistakes,” Ilon told him. “If we look to the problems of the past, then why can we not change what happens in the future?”
Krugjon frowned angrily. “What happened yesterday or what will happen tomorrow is unimportant. Only today matters, this moment. That is my personal belief.”
Shaking his head Ilon answered, “You are wrong. Your kind of thinking is why the Iranha are winning. They live in the present yet are planning their future every day. Without a plan we are working apart. How can we hope to succeed when so many of us are fighting against ourselves? Instead we must be organized. First we must work together in order to make this victory happen.”
“Your eyes see into tomorrow and I am sure you know the future already. But none of this helps to change what is happening now. Convince me that fighting them to the death is better than holding onto our lives. If you can, then this hunter shall be the first to join you.”
The sky was beginning to cloud over and a windstorm was coming. Climbing up onto Krugjon’s back Ilon secured himself then pulled tight on the reins. Krugjon automatically obeyed, jumping toward the forest directly ahead. This part required the greatest concentration, for the slightest deviation from the path could send them both hurtling into a tree. Yet they were a skilled team, working together to do what neither of them could accomplish separately. And despite their personal differences each was the other’s closest companion, for they were constantly together, traveling and hunting. Except for when he was with Katakana, they were never apart. Each could almost tell what the other was thinking, so close now was this bond of trust.
“Veer right. Now!” Ilon shouted as he steered him past the approaching tree trunk.
There was another tree straight ahead and Krugjon traveled as easily around it just as if he was seeing it himself. They loped a while at a fast pace, until Ilon sensed his mount was tiring and so he decided it was time to take a brief rest. When he lifted his face he sniffed the moist air and knew there was water nearby.
Krugjon smelled it too, and when they reached the river’s edge he wasted no time, plunging himself into the cold clear water with Ilon still strapped on his back.
Thrashing about in the river, Ilon fought to keep himself afloat, although his head sank beneath the foam and he coughed up a mouthful of water the next time he resurfaced. Krugjon was a natural swimmer and moved through the water with ease, climbing up onto the bank while he waited as his drenched companion struggled to reach the shore.
Ilon spoke sharply. “Why did you do that?”
“You were starting to stink,” he grinned mischievously. “A good washing will do you some good.”
Still dripping wet Ilon crouched on the ground beside him. “It will be daylight soon.”
“How much longer?”
“Today. By early this morning I hope to be there.”
“With Kykiris?”
“Yes. I think I must have told you of her.”
“If you did then I do not remember. I once knew a hunter named Kykiris who hunted with trod Argugun.”
“That is her. She is the hunter I freed from the Iranha. Only she survived. Those who were part of trod Argugun were lost to the Iranha.”
Many things were on Ilon’s mind, particularly this hunter. Although her message came to him only two days ago it had probably originated at the beginning of Summer, since the normal means of communication between trods depended on which hunter happened to be traveling in this direction.
“Time to leave. Are you ready?”
At his affirmative, Ilon kicked sand over the fire to be certain it was extinguished, then climbed up onto Krugjon’s broad back and assumed his riding position, signaling he was ready to depart.
“I hope we will find her soon,” Krugjon said.
“Just beyond that field over there, you will see.”
Chapter Twenty Five
“I grow tired of waiting,” Midlothian complained. “Look, the sun is coming up. How much longer?”
“Very soon,” the hunting guide assured her. Her hands were trembling slightly for she knew that the Tomauk was becoming impatient with her. “Try to be patient.”
“Patience does not reassure me. I paid you good money for this expedition, and up until now you have failed to deliver even a single segathar. All this waiting becomes unbearable. We are wasting the whole night out here.”
“Very boring,” Oneteesel, her hunting companion, agreed. “You promised us there would be plenty of game to hunt. So where are these creatures?”
Dullacima nervously pressed the button once more and there was a loud, rumbling noise on the field. In the deep grass their decoy lifted its head and bellowed as another electric jolt pulsed through its body.
“Try it again,” Midlothian ordered. Slowly, she scanned the horizon from end to end in the hope of seeing just one of her quarry. “I don’t see anything.”
“Use your thermal visor only,” Dullacima suggested to her, “As I explained to you earlier, these segathars are almost impossible to spot visually.”
Scowling, Midlothian did as she was instructed and pulled the visor over her face, looking for any recognizable heat signatures. Despite seeing a few blotches moving upon the field there was nothing of any significance. After a while she lost her patience and the first thing she did was strike the vehicle’s metallic shielding with her clenched fist.
“Nothing!”
She was not only less than pleased, her facial expression was such that Dullacima fully expected her next words to force a deadly confrontation.
“I demand a full return of my money.”
“But Tomauk,” she pleaded. “Surely you cannot expect me to guarantee our agreement. I help only to guide you to where game might be found. After all, how can I control the minds of feral animals?”
“You make excuses, Dullacima. Perhaps we shall use you instead for target practice.”
“No, please, I beg you, high one.” Her cold humor was greatly unappreciated, and Dullacima looked at her nervously, her whole body shivering with apprehension.
“Unless you can produce something worth killing very soon then our agreement shall be terminated. And I
expect you to pay me back with interest for this miserable waste of my time.”
“As you wish,” she grumbled. She pressed the button uselessly, again and again, with every attempt hoping to see something moving out on the horizon. Just as Dullacima was giving the order to depart one of her spotters suddenly called out, “Wait! I see them now!”
This was exactly what Dullacima wanted to hear, rushing over to where her spotter was stationed. After pulling down her visor she eagerly scanned the horizon. “I see them too!” she shouted excitedly, waving at Midlothian and Oneteesel to come over and join her.
“What kind are they?” Oneteesel queried her as she strained to look across the field.
“Segathars. Precisely what you wanted. Be very quiet now,” Dullacima instructed them both. “Your weapons. Are they ready?”
After checking her gun, Midlothian nodded. Oneteesel latched the arming trigger and the big gun hummed to life. “Ready.”
Now they waited and watched from their hiding spot as the segathars moved in closer and closer. These were big animals and were easily clearing the tall grass with every bound. Dullacima swallowed nervously and hoped her two customers were good shots.
As expected, when the decoy bellowed the pack animals came jumping forward. Midlothian had her gun trained on the lead, the wedge of her hand ready on the trigger. She had waited this long to kill one. She couldn’t wait that much longer.
“They are a sight to behold,” Dullacima said eagerly. “Just as I promised. So. What of our bargain?”
“You can keep my money. And do not even think to ask me for more. Now get out of my way,” Midlothian commanded, shoving her roughly aside.
They were just coming into range when Oneteesel lowered her gun. “What is wrong with them? Why have they stopped?” she whispered to Midlothian beside her.
“Quiet,” she answered, for she was now keenly aware that the animals were looking over in this direction.
“Above you!” Dullacima screamed out a warning.
The Battle for Tomorrow (Ilon the Hunter) Page 20